The Explanation, or the Story
by Valkafinatic
Summary: Darkness, fear, anger, pain... so.. much... PAIN. My body screams at me for probably the thousandth time in my life to just give up. To die and leave this world. But just like all the other times a small reason always seems to pop up in the back of my mind when I'm ready to just end. I still have to keep moving. If I don't, all this will be for nothing. I'll fail him.
1. Prologue

**I own nothing. Though I wish I did.**

Prologue

I know what you are looking for. An explanation that can quickly state the reasons for my actions thus far. But I could never sum up into a few words everything that has effected the path that I have gone on to get to the present I am at now.

Through out my life I have experienced betrayal, loneliness, hopelessness, and felt pain the likes of which would make men three times my size shudder at the mere thought of. But I have also experienced love, kindness, and the truest, purest happiness one could ever feel. The feeling so strong I am still surprised my heart did not burst when I had felt it.

Knowing this how can you ask me to explain so much in so little. Even if I managed to do so you would not see the true meaning lying beyond the explanation. You would see nothing more than what was on the surface. And just like nearly everyone else you would only manage to see the labels that I have gained through my journey. Fiend, Slave, Traitor, Outcast,... runt.

No.

If you wish for that go elsewhere now to hear the opinions of others. I will not waste my breath with you.

However, if you have the patience to listen, I will unveil to you secrets that almost no one else in this world knows. But for me to do that, I must start from the beginning. The _very_ beginning.

And the beginning starts about... 42 years ago. In a land, far to the south, called Rome.

**Authors note**

**Yes, this is Valka speaking. **

**NO i do not own anything pertaining to any one except the words currently typed on the screen.**

**I am writing this because I have heard so many different suggestions to the reasoning behind Valka/Valhallarama's disappearance that it is either she left dew to choice and is currently a bitch because of it or she just died. I honestly think a new possibility should be stated.**

**It's truly going to be her life story as I think it happened, from the time of birth to the second movies beginning.**

**Before you ask, no I have not read the books. I'm sorry, big whoopdy doo. I still like HTTYD and am a huge fan of the movie, mini movies, and TV series. And to me that's good enough.**

**I'm just tired of all this hatred toward Valka. (Book readers forgive me please if i am speaking out of term) But I believe that Valka truly, deeply loved Hiccup and Stoick, but might end up (in the movie) just being an unfortunate victim of circumstance.**

**Anyway, no more ranting or spoilers. This is my first story so very likely the quality will get better as I go along. Happy reading.**


	2. The beginning, and The Casting

**I own nothing.**

**Hi guys. I'm back! :D I have chosen to try (emphasis on TRY) and update this thing once every week, if not then definitely once every other week. Please do not ask me to post sooner, you can't rush art. If I do, it will just come out sloppy, messy, and disgusting. :P(And nobody likes that, now do they?) My personal goal is to have this finished before the movie comes out in theaters.**

**But I do have a life, if something occurs in it to prevent me from entering another chapter I will inform you. Then I will update as soon as possible. This way the story can keep moving and you get too enjoy it.**

**That's all for now. Happy reading!**

The Beginning and the Casting

At the outskirts of the Roman empire, were the highest piece of Roman land meets with the Atlantic ocean, a small farming town sits precariously perched at the edge of a low hanging cliff face. The earth in constant barrage of endless waves roaring and crashing against its side. The wind buffeting in from the sea like a never-ending whistling that runs past ones ears.

Just a few yards from this battle between the elements sits a small hut of a building made of stone and wood. A small wisp of smoke omitting from the back window. Three souls stand just outside of the tiny wooden door that serves as a gateway into the warm hut. Yet none of them move to enter the warmth even as they shiver from the intense cold of the night. The tallest of the three figures, a middle-aged man, stood like a wall against the buffeting wind paying it no heed even as it tossed around the dark brown shaggy hair that adorned his head and seemingly toyed with his scraggly beard. The clean and regal way he held himself and the exquisite robe he wore stated of high status. His face, arms, and hands however, spoke of years worth of work implying that his position was not by birth. His piercing hazel gaze never moved from the door in front of him as if a great force had them glued too it. He knows full well the dangerous and risky procedure occurring just beyond.

The smaller figure on the mans right was a gruff boy of 5 years, and nearly an exact copy of the man he clasped the hand of. The third and last of the group was a little girl of 4 years with thick russet hair and more of a soft curve to her face than the sharp features that adorned her father. Nether children speak a word, both still too young to understand the extent of what is happening, but fully aware of the seriousness of the situation.

As the trio stands there they all wince and cringe in unison. Each scream and moan emanating from within the hut like a sharp knife piercing the very air around them. All three knowing that the sounds come from a woman currently battling for her life to bring another into the world. After hours of anxious waiting however, the long-awaited phrase makes its appearance.

"Push once more my lady, your baby comes!"

Inside the hut, protected from the outside chill, two women kneel on either side of a stout woman. One holding onto the intense grip of the pained woman lying on the birthing cot, the other dabbing at the woman's sweat soaked forehead with a wet rag and wiping the fine russet hair from her pained face. A midwife dressed in wraps kneels in between the spread legs of the woman, her bloodied hands splayed out to catch the new-born as, with one last agonizing push, it slips out of its mother and into the world. The baby gives barely a moment for its first breath before it emits a light wail that echoes through the birthing room and begins to squirm in the midwife's hands. The child is rushed to a clay rinsing bowl filled with steaming water where it is quickly cleaned and swaddled in fresh linens.

The two other women run around the room like frantic ants exchanging the soiled sheets on the cot and assisting the mother back into a comfortable position who is just regaining her breath from the long ordeal. After waiting a few moments to catch her breath the third time mother manages to open her deep green eyes to search the small hut in the hopes of landing her sight on her newest born.

The midwife still carrying the crying child slowly moves her way back to the mother's side and gently places the crying child in her arms stating in a regretful tone "It was a girl."

The mother looks up in surprise not expecting, or understanding, the reason for the past tense wording. Isn't the child not only crying but squirming about in her arms right now? How could this woman possibly say something so untrue when the baby was obviously alive? She opens her mouth to berate the woman for such an atrocious accusation when... she feels it. That lightness that she did not experience with her first two children.

The baby in her arms was too small.

It was a _runt._

The town was a very superstitious place, and if a runt was born it brought with it horrifying possibilities and endless bad luck. That is, assuming the child survived the first day. And if it did manage to survive it needed to be either removed from the town or disposed of entirely. For as the child grew so did the misfortune around it.

But the mother couldn't understand. It just wasn't _possible_. Both herself and her husband where very robust individuals, and as far as she knew neither her's nor her husband's family line had any records of any under weight children. Her husband was given the good graces of the gods to become the _mayor_ for Minerva's sake! Something like this just didn't happen to them. But even as these thoughts passed through her head she looked down at the child in her arms and her mind went completely blank, and not a moment later she new she would never be able to kill this child.

Through her musings the man, upon hearing the infant's bawling, bursts into the hut. The door hitting the wall behind it with a harsh crack from the sudden movement. "Antistia!" He cried out of joy and relief of seeing his wife alive and well, his arms outstretched to embrace her form. But when his eyes fall on the child his step falters, and the question is out of his mouth before he can stop it. "Why is it so small?"

Startled out of her thoughts from the question Antistia looked up at her husband as if he just appeared out of thin air. When the man points toward the child for explanation, however, she quickly replies saying "She's a little small right now Romulus, but she's very healthy and I'm sure she'll grow quickly to be a great woman." It's a statement meant to convince someone but even too her ears it sounds shaky and unsure. She knew her husband was never a suspicious man but even he became wary when a runt was involved.

Romulus slowly walked toward Antistia and stared at the child in her arms. His face filled with hesitation as he took in the child's condition. "Please, Romulus." Antistia softly begged her husband. He turned too look at her pleading face before sighing and giving a small smile to his wife.

"How can I deny my beautiful wife." After saying this he sits down next to her on the cot to kiss her forehead. At this small gesture Antistia relaxes on the bed knowing the possibility of death for the child has passed.

The midwife and her two assistants standing in the room all share a look of pity for the child but do not bother to correct the woman. Instead they usher themselves out of the hut to give the family privacy and leave the child to the fate they believe will befall it. As they open the door the two children still waiting outside rush in weaving their way through the women's legs and over to their mother who now holds their newest sibling. The couple looked away from the new-born to see the excited faces of their children looking up at them. "Remus, Crispina, come and meet your younger sister... um" Romulus begins but then pauses when he realizes they haven't given the child a name yet.

Noticing her husband's distress Antistia chimed in saying "Valhallarama Vipsania Vorenius." and then lowered the baby still squirming and whining to the children's eye level. Romulus looked at his wife in surprise for the choice of name but then shrugged it off deeming that a strange and unusual child should have a name just as strange and unusual. Crispina's hazel eyes widened and her face took on a look of absolute awe and wonder as she stared down at the face of her new sister, while Remus looked at the baby in a mixture of confusion and disgust. "Why's it all _pink _and _squishy_ lookin?"

A great round of laughter bursts from Romulus and Antistia willingly allowed her self a good chuckle at the remark before quickly correcting her young son. "Babies are just born looking that way Remi. When they get a little older they'll lose that color and start to grow big and strong." Remus still didn't look convinced but he didn't push the subject any further.

Though Antistia and Remus didn't realize it, their exchange planted a small seed of thought into the back of Romulus's mind that would only continue to grow as time went on. Would the child really grow as his wife said it would or would it truly turn into the most unlucky omen of all?

8 YEARS LATER

(February 26th)

Near the center of town a small girl quickly scales up the side of a building in the early hours of the morning. Leather sandals tossed and forgotten on the ground below, her tiny bared feet and nimble fingers easily find the small protruding edges and cracks in the wall that carry her higher. The light weight of her slim body only helping her ascend faster. Bright green eyes filled with determination and a hint of innocent curiosity focus on the destination visited so often by the girl, she can't remember a day that she had not known of it. As she clambered onto the shingled roof of the building, the wind, so much stronger at the higher elevation, whips at her loose waist length brown hair and billows the sand colored dress that's been bunched and tied off on the girls upper right thigh.

After steadying herself on the roof she plants her feet onto the tiles and takes a moment to look around at the buildings around her. The building she now stood on was one of the very few largely built buildings, this one just so happening to be her own home. A single paved road acted as the central nervous system for the town with small dirt paths branching off from the main road and leading to any further locations. The few people who lived there bustled about from place too place trying to accomplish their days worth of work. Behind the home she stood on lead to the vast open fields where cotton, wheat an olives were grown in. A small stream runs along side the fields and maneuvers its way through the town before spilling into the ocean. A single water wheel, in constant rotation within this stream, acted as an energy source for the mill that worked tirelessly to prepare the food that was harvested from the fields. The girl frowned upon seeing it as a memory of an even younger version of herself came to fruition.

She had played in that very same stream that day, jumping from rock to rock and picking up random objects to see how long it would take for them to sink beneath the water. She was having a fun time with it when she saw that the water wheel was still and silent. For a moment she panicked, for not too much earlier her mother had informed her of the wheels importance. If it wasn't moving then much-needed resources for the town would be cut short for a while. So she ran up to the wheel as fast as she could inspecting it as she went. Her little mind racing as she thought about how the movement of the water would always effect the wheel and then came to the conclusion that maybe the wheel itself just couldn't turn. So she climbed up the buckets of the water wheel until she was even with its center then proceeded to shimmy her way across the supporting beams until she could reach the location that the wheel was connected to the mill. Then she removed one of the tightening pins to allow it to move again.

What she _hadn't_ been informed of however, was that the wheel had been stopped on purpose for repairs to be made within the mill and the center rod was not fully connected to the wheel as a safety measure. The Wheel managed one full turn, just long enough for the girl to get down, step back and admire her work, before popping off of its placement and falling, with a loud crash, onto its side and into the stream. It took 10 men and 6 hours just to place it back into position again.

Needless to say, the day did not end happily.

Shaking her head from the memory the girl turned back around and faced toward the vast amounts of roofs that lined the main road and led all the way to the docks at the ocean front. After setting her sights on her true destination, a house furthest to the right of the village that seemed to have the perfect overlook of the sea, she began her favorite pastime. Roof Hopping. As she positioned herself for her first jump she thought back to those first months of this activity and every now and again afterword where she would slip and fall from a roof, or worse, _through _a roof. She was much better at it now of course, but every time she _had_ fallen it would just be her luck to topple something over, or break something, or let something loose. And each time it happened the town would be there to witness it, and if it wasn't, the few people who did see it would spread the word like wild-fire. She could almost always guarantee the mishap was known by every last individual within an hour of its happenings.

Even through all these thoughts, she managed to find a good landing location to focus on before scooting back and then sprinting to the edge of the roof. Just as the ball of her foot connected with the edge of the roof tiles she pushed off. For a few solitary moments she was in the air, her feet and legs still moving under her but touching nothing and her arms and fingers splayed out in front of her. Both awaiting the imminent jolt that will push through them when she landed.

She hits the next roof hard and slides down ever so slightly, but her footing has experienced this many times and she knows just how to push against the shingles to get the best traction out of them. When she settles she releases an excited breath and continues onward to the other side of the roof to repeat the process with the other roofs until she reaches the last house.

Now, it wasn't necessarily the roofs themselves that excited her so much, but the altitude that they provided. Ever since she could remember she adored being in high places. The air was always that much fresher, the wind that much stronger, and though everyone called her small while she was on the ground, she always saw everyone else that much smaller when she was so much further above them. And if _that _wasn't enough, the amount of sight that the altitude gave her was absolutely breathtaking. There was just so much out there waiting to be seen, touched, and experienced. If there had been any tree's in the area she would have used those instead of the rickety old roofs that adorned the houses, but the closest ones to the area, besides the olive trees and those were off-limits, were a good ten miles inland. So the roof tops became her domain through necessity.

Today however was not about sight-seeing, as much as she enjoyed it. Today she had a specific objective on her mind, all concerning with the upcoming weather. Through her own observations and several teachings from her father she'd been able to deduce that a storm was coming, a big one. This particular roof escapade would be the one that gives her the final information on how big it's going to be and when it will get here. After landing on the final house, the girl clambered over to the side of the roof that faced toward the roaring ocean and the gusting winds. She slid down the side of the roof on her bottom until she reached the edge where she swung her bare legs down to dangle in the air, allowing her to sit perched on the edge of the roof with her hands acting as secondary anchors.

The girl's eyes scoured the sky above her searching for the specific cloud that always came as a flag in the sky before storms. Her eyes didn't bother to look above or behind her as the direction of the wind told of the storm coming from the sea. That was already a bad sign in and of itself. Because while storms seemed to shrink on land, the ones coming in from the sea were supplied with a mass amount of strength before it touched down on the soil. Even worse the wind was coming in fast, meaning the storm would be here in no more than maybe three or four days. If they were lucky. Just a few moments more of searching and there they were, Cumulonimbus clouds, just off the western horizon. And there were a lot of them. At this the girl knew this wasn't going to be just a regular storm, oh no, this was a hurricane. Those were horrendous news for the town. They ripped up the crops from the ground, forced the ships in the dock onto the land and made them useless for days until they were repaired, and finally, it flooded _everything_. All the way from the docks to past the fields everything would be at least knee-deep in water after the storm passed.

The girl released her grip from the roof so she could turn and make her way back to her house when a sharp cry came from below.

"VALHALLARAMA!"

The shouting of the name startled her so harshly she lost grip entirely on the side of the roof and, without even a second to correct her mistake, slipped off the edge. Valhallarama's fall seemed to happen in slow motion, as it always did, and she just happened to catch a quick glimpse of her elder sister standing on the ground with a look of utter horror on her face and holding a small pair of leather sandals in her right hand, _just_ before landing on the fence of a sheep pen in an upside-down heap. Now, what usually happens when someone lands on a fence is it just cracks under the person's weight, and that's that. However, Valhallaramas luck holds true as the fence not only jolts forward and into the ground from under her weight but, like a domino effect, the rest of the fence follows suit.

Half a second of silence occurs before,... enter stage right, pure chaos. Sheep are scattering. People are running. Valhallarama is panicking and crying out "I'm sorry! I can fix this!" Crispina's shouting of "Dear GOD's!". And miscellaneous shouting's of "WHAT THE HELL?" "WHATS GOING ON?" "WHAT HAPPENED?" fill the air along with the agitated bleating of the sheep.

Crispina is the first of the two girls to react as she rushes over and picks up the scrambling Valhallarama. Being 4 years her senior and already 3 times the younger's girth, it's about as easy as lifting up a small bag of rice. After setting Valhallarama back on her feet Crispina let's go of her and says "What were you doing up there? You know dad's told you to stop climbing on buildings!" But Valhallarama payed no heed to her elder sisters scolding instead twisting around and rushing to lift the fence as quickly as she could. Crispina just stood there looking at her sister in pity as she struggled to do something that the elder sister could carry out so easily. It was like watching a bunny try to lift a fallen tree.

Meanwhile the rest of the town was beginning to gather around the scene of the crime, some holding bleating sheep under their arms and looking haphazard in their dirt covered garments, while others simply walked up with curiosity and confusion written on their faces. However, as each person took in the sight of the culprit for the mishap, each face exchanged their looks of confusion for ones that ranged anywhere between 'expected annoyance' to flat-out 'anger'.

Statements of "This is the sixth time this WEEK!" and "That runt's gonna mean our starvation if she keeps this up!" filter through the crowd and into the ears of the accused only forcing her to try to double her efforts. At that moment the crowd began parting with yells of "Make way! Make way for the mayor!" and Romulus emerged from one end of the circle of citizens, closely followed by Remus. Now a stout boy of 13 with meaty arms and shaggy hair in the same style as his father.

With a quick stride and decisive movement Romulus arrived in front of his daughters in a matter of moments. He observed the scene in front of him taking in his eldest daughters now sheepish look, sandals still in hand, along with his youngest child still struggling with the toppled fence, and then around to the people holding the captured sheep. He did all this with a slow calculated look before turning to his youngest daughter and stating in a voice as serious as the situation around him "Valhallarama, what happened?"

Now, until then Valhallarama hadn't been paying much attention to all that was going on around her until she heard her father's voice. To which, upon hearing it, she dropped the fence from the mere 2 inches she had managed to lift it and straitened her body in response to the amount of suppressed anger that was veiled behind the words.

She dared not turn around for fear of what she knew she would see once she looked at her father's face. So she continued to look toward the pasture that extended off toward the low overhanging cliff face as she answered with "I was on the roof," a low groan escaped the crowd upon hearing this with one person even calling out 'Another roof?!' all silenced by Romulus's raised hand. Once it was quiet again Valhallarama continued saying "and I was checking the path of the storm, when Crispina startled me and I fell off the roof onto the fence." the sentence lowered in volume as Valhallarama got to the part where she had made her mistake. She knew her father wasn't happy and she already knew what was going to happen before he even said it.

"Valhallarama, look at me."

She did as she was told, slowly turning around and finding the ground suddenly interesting as she did so. Then with a large swallow she lifted her head to meet with her father's gaze.

And there it was.

The same face he gave her when she broke the water wheel, and the same face he made every other time she caused any amount of disorder to occur. It was the same look one would give someone they expected to fail at a task and was just waiting for the time when it would happen. It wasn't the first time she had received this look, but each time she received it from her father it was like an eternal knife jabbing into her heart. She truly wanted nothing more than to do something that would make this man happy. But if he continued to look at her with such hopeless expectancy, how was she supposed to accomplish such a task?

Valhallarama bowed her head in resignation and in a voice that comes out sounding like a hoarse whisper she said "I'm sorry."

Romulus took in a deep breath in before sighing and pointing toward the fence "Fix this." Then almost as an after thought he turned to his son and stated "You and your sister help her."

At this, Remus looked up at his father in indignation as he wined "Why do _we_ always have to help clean up her messes?"

"Because I said so," Romulus countered in all seriousness "And I don't want another water wheel mishap." After stating this Romulus turned toward the crowd and said "To everyone here, I apologize for the interruption. If you are not currently in possession of a sheep please return to what you were doing before, all those holding sheep please follow me so we can place them in the barn for safe keeping until the fence has been repaired."

As the crowd cleared Crispina turned toward her siblings and sighed "Well, we might as well get started. Valhallarama there is a hammer sitting up against that house we can use it to pound the stakes back in."

As Valhallarama left to retrieve the hammer Remus yelled after her retreating form saying "Make sure you bring a stool!" Crispina elbowed him in the ribs at this and gave him an angry look. Remus bowed from the contact before covering the assaulted area with his arms and grunting out "What? She's not tall enough to hit the post correctly without one!"

Crispina rolled her eyes at this before turning and walking toward the fallen pen and saying "Just come over here and help me pick up the damn fence."

Thus began the long activity of pounding the fence back into the ground. Crispina and Remus would both hold up the individual fence posts while Valhallarama stood on the little crate that she used as a makeshift stool and swung the hammer down on the post. It was exhausting work, at least for Valhallarama. For her, swinging a hammer came as a process. First, Valhallarama would use most, if not all, of her energy just to lift the hammer off the ground. Then, using the centrifugal force of the hammer to her advantage she would apply all the weight that she had into the movement to force the hammer into the appropriate ark so it would hit its mark. Unfortunately, this process was only a one shot deal as the vibration that the hammer gave off after coming in contact with the post would always shake it from her grip. And as it fell to the ground each time she swung, Valhallarama's body would be fighting for balance on the rickety crate taking up even more time and precious energy. When she stilled she would jump down, re-situate the crate, grab the hammer and drag it back to the crate to prepare for another swing. By the end of the second post Valhallarama was already feeling the sweat pore down her face.

After noticing her sisters distress, Crispina decided to trade places with her after every two posts, doing another four herself in quick succession and then handing the hammer back to Valhallarama. Remus refused to help any further than what he had to. This process continued down the fence until about mid-day when the three siblings stopped at about half way through their work too take a much needed break on the cool grass. Valhallarama practically collapsed on the ground from exhaustion, her limbs spread out around her as far as they could go. The wind was cool against her heated skin, and the sore muscles underneath began loosening ever so slightly from there constant usage.

After what was actually a few minutes, but felt like mere seconds to Valhallarama, she heard foot steps coming closer to her position. Refusing to force her body out of the relaxing position it was in she swiveled her head around to take in the sight of the approaching character and spotted a woman close to her thirties walking up the pathway carrying three bowls in her hand and a small pot of stew. The smell of which not only catching her attention but that of her two siblings as well who both sat up with a glimmer of hope in their eyes. "Hello!" The woman stated cheerily "Your mother heard about the accident and asked me to bring this to you. She said that you must be hungry after working so hard." As if concurring her statement a trio of stomachs all called out in a chorus of growls. The woman chuckled and she quickly handed out the three bowls to the youngsters. Remus held out his bowl first having it filled to the brim before he quickly began to drink it down. The woman then turned to Crispina and filled her bowl to the brim as well. Crispina took a step back and thanked the woman before she began to drink the stew down as well. When Valhallarama held out her bowl to receive her share the woman tipped the pot to begin poring. Just as the stew reached the brim of the pot however it jerked back just far enough that all the remaining stew fell and landed with a small splash on the filthy ground.

Valhallarama just stood there with a stricken look on her face as the spilled stew mercilessly disappeared into the soil. She then slowly looked up at the woman with the same expression still on her face. The woman just stared down at her with contempt and said almost mockingly "Oh, pity. Maybe your mother can make you more later." and with that she quickly strode away without a second look back.

Valhallarama watched the woman's retreating form for a few moments before staring down at the empty bowl that still occupied her hands. The rumble in her stomach only made the reality of the situation that much worse. Did the town now hate her so much they didn't think she deserved to eat? The empty bowl was beginning to blur in-front of her as her eyes began to prickle and water, but before a tear managed to fall down her face a hand softly touched her arm. Valhallarama looked over and managed to blink away the moisture from her eyes to take in the sight of Crispina pouring some of the contents of her bowl into the empty one. After doing so Crispina turned to Remus and elbowed him in the side. "OW!" Remus cried before jerking his head to angrily face his sister that had assaulted his side for the second time that day "Would you stop doing that!? I'm eating here!" Crispina just pointed over to the still barely full bowl of stew being held in Valhallarama's tiny grasp. Seeing this, Remus tilted his head back and let out an over exaggerated sigh of annoyance before leaning over and pouring a little of his remaining stew into his sisters bowl.

Valhallarama looked at her two siblings with such admiration and joy for such a kind gesture, that she couldn't help the wide smile that broke out along her face as the words "Thank you." fell from her mouth. Crispina smiled back at her sister kindly and responded happily "Your welcome." While Remus gave a grunt of acknowledgment as he chugged down the last of his broth. Crispina turned to him with a mixture of disgust and disapproval for the tact of his response but decided he had already received enough physical torture for today and instead placed an arm around her younger sister saying "What are siblings for?"

And there on the grassy plain over looking the Atlantic sea, three young children happily sat next to each other. One enjoying the best stew they've ever tasted in their life.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the town, Romulus closed the gates of the barn as the last sheep was finally caught and accounted for. The crowd of civilians calling it a day as they meandered back home or to return to there work places, all save one. A tall muscular man with a clean shaven face and hair of pitch walked up behind Romulus, his sandals clapping against the ground under his weight. Once directly behind him the man stated in a rough and cracked voice "She's getting worse."

"Atticus." Was the only response given by Romulus to acknowledge the man's presence as he turned the key to the lock and pulled it to ensure it's security.

Romulus new the man that was standing behind him quite well actually. During the time that he was a poor man Atticus was one of his closest friends, he'd even been the one too introduce him to the woman he now called his wife. He had a strong mind and a good heart and he valued Atticus's opinion greatly, but this particular topic had been brought up too many times to count and it was doing nothing more than feeding the still growing seed in his mind.

"Don't pretend to not know what's happening. You've already kept her here too long as it is. You should have killed the runt w-"

"What happens with my daughter is my business." Romulus cut him off "She is smaller than most, but she has not caused any true damage to anyone." At that he began to walk back down the street too make his rounds of the town, accounting in his mind any old cracks in buildings or roads he would later have fixed or any other miscellaneous defect of the towns property. But even at this brush away Atticus continued to follow behind him regardless. He new he wasn't deaf.

"Alright fine, at first it was just small things like braking a pot, or spilling a basket, but that escalated to knocking over a cart and that went to braking roofs, then the _water wheel_ and _NOW_ she's almost gone and cost us half our live stock! At the rate she's going we'll be having people drop from sickness anytime now."

Romulus frowned at this starting to take into account all the events leading up to today that his youngest daughter had been involved in finding them quite troubling too say the least. But he still could not think of killing her, she was just a very clumsy child that hadn't grown into her muscle yet. If nothing else, Antistia would be devastated if any harm came too her. And he wouldn't be able to bring himself to look at his wife's face if he caused such a thing. But if Atticus was right what _would_ the child be a cause of later?

Noticing the conflicted look upon his friends face Atticus sighed and stated "Look, I understand you don't want to believe it because she's yours Romulus, but whether you realize it or not the child is a runt and it's living up to it's status as one. The longer you keep it here the higher chance there is of it causing harm."

Finally Romulus stopped walking to turn and stare directly into his friends face before stating "I'm not going to kill her just because of a few mishaps. Unless something truly diabolical happens I'm not going to believe I need to get rid of her just because of some stupid wives tale." Atticus and Romulus looked at each other for several seconds before Atticus nodded his head in resignation before waving a farewell to his long time friend and walking back down to the docks to finish with his work. He new he had won the argument, but even as Romulus watched Atticus's retreating form, he couldn't help but wonder if he could hold true to his words.

It was now late in the day, the sun low in the sky and Valhallarama, Crispina, and Remus were striding back up the main street toward their home. The fence finished only just recently when Remus was finally 'convinced' by Crispina to work with the hammer. He managed to finish plowing in the last of the fence posts within minutes.

Remus now walked beside his sister begrudgingly holding the three bowls in his hands, while Crispina was glaring at him from behind "Why am I the only one holding the bowls?" Remus complained.

"Because you didn't bother to help pound in the posts until I forced you too and my arms are tired because of it. I can't imagine how Valhallarama feels like right now." Crispina countered angrily.

"Oh, go cry a river!" Remus yelled back. "You know if we didn't have to fix that fence today, I would have been down at the docks with everyone else learning how to fight of raiders, or kill dragons."

"Oh, come on Remus." Crispina groaned "The closest dragon is probably a good six days sail north of here and that's barbaric viking territory. Theirs no reason to learn how to kill one if they don't bother to come down here anyway."

"I don't need them to come down here!" Remus stated proudly "When I'm older I'm going to sail up to the north and hunt one down myself and bring its head back as a trophy."

"Didn't you hear me numskull?" Crispina yelled as she waked her brother upside the head "That's VIKING TERRITORY! The moment they see the Roman emblem on your ship they'd kill you in an instant before you had a chance to fight back."

"I'll just kill them too!"

"No you won't there will be to many!"

"No there won't!"

"Yes there will!"

Though her older siblings were bickering angrily Valhallarama couldn't be happier. She practically skipped up the road, holding her sandals in each hand and humming a tune that her mother taught her. The dirt grinding under her feet giving them a crusty brown coating as she walked up the dirt path that marked the way up to the house. A small vegetable garden lined the front left half of the house, following a white stone wall before cutting off at solid oak door. As they traveled closer to the house Valhallarama's nose was once again assaulted by the smell of stew brewing in a pot. It had been hours since she last ate, and though she was grateful of the amount of food she received from her siblings it had still barely been a meal at all. Also, if the stew was still brewing maybe she could help her mother cook some of it, she always loved learning how too cook different foods when her mother taught her. So, with her stomach growling in anticipation and heart lifted with the thought of spending time with her mother, Valhallarama ran ahead of her siblings and grasped the brass handle of the door. Using her entire body to yank back on the door several times, she managed to open it wide enough for her to slip inside.

She ran through the entrance hallway, across the atrium*, and was about to reach for the door that led to the kitchens when it was opened from the other side by the very woman that she sot after. To late to stop and no time to turn, Valhallarama ran right into her mother so hard she flew backwards from the impact and landed flat on her back. "Oh, my goodness!" Antistia cried at the sight of her daughter now sprawled on the floor. She quickly moved too her daughters side perfectly prepared to patch up any injuries as she asked "Sweet heart are you okay?" But just as she reached out to her daughter to pick her up, Valhallarama sprang from the ground, and with a smile still plastered to her face she looked up at her mother and asked "Can I help you with making the stew?"

Antistia just stared at her daughter for a moment in utter amazement before taking in her daughters question. "Oh, I'm afraid I've already finished with making the stew for today." Antistia began but as she watched her daughters face droop she smiled and added happily "But I haven't set the table yet."

Valhallarama's mood took a one eighty turn as she beamed at her mother once more and ran toward the kitchen crying out as she went "I'll help!"

"Wait!" Valhallarama froze mid step as she looked back at her mother in alarm. "While your in there, and before you handle any bowls I suggest you clean up those hand's and feet of yours."

Relaxing out of relief of not being refused to be allowed to do something for her mother Valhallarama picked up her stride again calling back "Yes Momma."

"Remember!" Antistia called after her "One dish at a time! Don't overload yourself!"

"Yes Momma!" echoed from within the kitchen. Antistia just shook her head as she once again wondered about the bouncy material children seemed to be made of before turning to her two other children that just managed to stumble into the atrium.

"Oh good! More of mommy's little helpers! Crispina would you mind setting out the utensils? And Remus, don't give me that look young man, you go put those dishes in the wash bucket and then set up the goblets." Crispina quickly ran to the kitchen to follow out her mothers request with Remus begrudgingly following after.

With the table quickly set and feet cleaned and sandal-ed once more, the stew was served and eaten with great gusto. But even though the table was set for five, the fifth member of the family did not show for diner that night. This was actually quite usual as Romulus' position required him to work well into the evenings, sometimes even extending into the night. After dinner was finished and all tummies were completely satisfied the three children were ushered off to bed. and then Valhallarama's room being next to hers and further from the door.

Antistia then went around the atrium, visiting each of her childrens rooms. She started with Remus's room which was on the right side of the atrium and next to her and her husbands room but closer to the front door. After entering she gave him a quick kiss good night, to which he complained quite loudly about how it wasn't manly. Antistia just chuckled at this before exiting and then moving on to Crispina's room located right on the opposite side of the atrium. When she entered her room she repeated the same action that she had given her son and Crispina responded wishing her a good night as well. Antistia then went to visit her final child whose room was right next door to Crispina's. When she entered Valhallarama's room she went up to the girl and kissed her good night but before she could leave she heard Valhallarama call out "Momma?"

Antistia turned to face her daughter now tucked under the covers of her bed in her white nightgown, her day-wear now laying haphazard in the clothes bin on the far side of her room. She had a pensive expression on her face as she stared back at the older woman. Wondering what could be wrong, Antistia answered "Yes, sweet heart?"

"Can you stay a little longer?"

The mother relaxed and smiled at this before moving over to sit next too Valhallarama on her bed. The tiny bed creaked underneath the heavy set woman and tilted with the added weight but it managed to hold steady. "Okay, but just this once." As she said this Antistia brought up her hand to play with her daughters nose by grasping it between two fingers and moving it back and forth until she began to giggle. "Now," Antistia stated after the giggling quieted down "What has my daughter so thoughtful today?"

Valhallarama looked up at her mother, opening her mouth as if to say something but then closing it as a secondary thought. Antistia waited patiently for her daughter to find the words she wanted to say until she heard Valhallarama ask "Why do people think I'm bad?"

Antistia drew her head back with a face full of confusion "I'm sorry, I don't understand. Why do you think people think your bad?"

Valhallarama sighed at this, she didn't want to have to explain the days events to her mother but she supposed she had no choice. Getting herself ready for a long talk Valhallarama scooted up in her bed until she was sitting with her back up against the head board with her pillow acting as a cushion. Once she was comfortable Valhallarama began recounting the day from the moment she was climbing up the wall and then to her big fall into the sheep fence. Then she began recounting the different reactions the towns people had to it, she _refused_ to state her fathers reaction. Then she went on to recount the actions of the woman that brought the pot of stew.

At the mention of this Antistia stiffened, her knuckles cracking and turning white from the grip she had on the sheets. She could handle the peoples statements toward her daughter but refusing her child to have the right to eat was completely crossing the line for Antistia. _And she had the audacity to come back and say she ate so much._ She would be having _several_ words with the woman tomorrow morning. "It sounds like you had a pretty ruff day." Antistia mentally patted herself on the back with her ability to get that out so calmly even through all the anger "But as for the way those people acted, I can only say that they themselves are acting out of confusion and fear."

"So," Valhallarama began slowly "People are scared of me?"

"Well not necessarily," Antistia explained "People have many fears behind them, unfortunately one of the highest fears is the fear of the unknown, or of things that they don't understand. When they have to confront these things they can have many different reactions. They can run from it out of fright, become very angry with it, or even pretend it's not there at all. But there are some very special people that actually embrace the things that are different. And by doing so they have the ability to create a different perspective on life."

"Like me and Roof hooping?" Valhallarama asked.

Antistia chuckled at the supplied example "Yes, like you and roof hoping. But these special people are so rare to regular people that they themselves are considered different or unexplainable. And thus others become afraid or angry with them because they don't understand the absolute wonder these new and unexplained things can bring about."

"Well," Valhallarama began as she took in the words of her mother "I know two people that don't do that. Crispina, and even Remus, shared their stew with me."

At this, a small spark of pride for her two older children ignited in her heart and Antistia smiled as she said with absolute truthfulness "Oh, did they now. Well that was very kind of them. I'll be sure to thank them for that."

"Don't worry about that momma," Valhallarama responded "I already did."

Antistia couldn't help the joyous laughter that came out of her at that. Mid laughter however she dissolved into a fit of coughs. Each sounding harsh and grinding as they left the mothers throat. When she could breath freely once more she smiled down at her daughters horrified face saying "It's alright, momma's just got a cough it will go away in a few days." Valhallarama relaxed at this but her face still held worry in it. Antistia decided to change the topic of the conversation before her quick witted child could ask any questions. "Well, this day might not have been your best but I bet you know what the day after tomorrow is."

Valhallarama practically shot up and beamed all the colors of the rainbow as she answered "MY BIRTHDAY!"

"That's right." Antistia said gleefully "That beautiful February 28th^, and do you know how old your going to be?"

"Eight!" Valhallarama said with pride in her voice.

"That's right!" Antistia stated mater-of-factly before playfully dropping low and dramatically putting her finger too her lips before whispering out "And I have all _three_ of your presents ready for you." Valhallaramas green eyes widened to dinner plates and her jaw practically hit the floor at this. Normally everyone only got one present for their birthday each year. It was the rare treat to have two presents. But _three_, that was unheard of. Antistia chuckled at her daughters reaction before slipping off the bed and replacing her finger to her lips to emphasize the secrecy of what she just unveiled. Valhallarama quickly copied the motion to show she had registered the meaning. Antistia then tucked her child back into bed and exited the room.

Unfortunately, through her excitement of the thought of her up coming birthday Valhallarama had completely forgotten about the up coming storm that was scheduled to happen that same day.

(February 27th)

The next morning, Valhallarama was woken up by the sunlight that streamed in through the open window of her room and landed on her face. She released a small groan before reluctantly lifting herself up from her pillow and into a sitting position using only her arms and allowing the rest of her body to stay limp. With her eyes still closed and dark brown hair sticking up at odd angles, she tossed the bed covers off of her form before swinging her legs over the side of the bed too rest on the ground. Shakily getting up onto her feet she wobbled back and forth for a few moments before releasing a yawn into the air and smacking her mouth open and closed trying too rid it of the bitter taste that always seemed to form as she slept. She then turned and ground guided herself, using her hands to feel where she was going, until she reached the other side of her bed where a small wooden desk sat with a matching chair sitting in front of it. Upon the desk was a large bowl of crystal clear water with a small brown hair brush laying on is side to the right of the bowl and a cloth towel to the left. The chair gave out a small creak as Valhallarama's body plopped into it. Her body, still half asleep, wobbled back and forth on the chair for just a moment before tipping forward, strait into the bowl of water with a splash.

Valhallarama jolted upward, gasping for air and her eyes shooting open as she cried out "I'm awake!". The water dripped down her face and hair onto her night gown as she clutched at the chair beneath her. After calming down she looked back at the now half empty bowl. The water left inside still vibrating from the sudden intrusion. Valhallarama pushed the bowl away from her and grabbed the towel to dry off her face as she mumbled to herself about easier ways to wake up. After placing the towel back down she lifted the brush and managed to tame the mop on her head enough to call it hair again. Then she proceeded to fix up her hair with trained fingers until it had two braids running across the sides of her head and connected with each other at the back before joining the rest of the hair that remained free.

After checking herself in the reflection of the water she slipped out of the night gown and meandered over to her closet which was standing on the opposite side of the room from bed and pulled open the wooden doors to sift through its contents. She picked out a light green dress that had short sleeves and reached down to her ankles. After quickly slipping the fabric over her head and closing her closet back up again she walked over to the door of her room and slid her sandals onto her feet before exiting into the atrium. Her mother wasn't out sweeping the stone floors which Valhallarama found odd but then she thought she was just out on the town getting food from the market and didn't think much more of it. She wondered if perhaps today she could go down to the docks and watch people work the rigging of the boats, but before she could move to leave, Romulus strode out of his study and when he spotted her he quickly called out "Valhallarama, I want to speak with you." Valhallarama winced at the serious tone of his voice but followed her father back into his study regardless.

The study was an averaged size room but it felt small as the walls were lined with bookshelves filled with scrolls, stacks of parchment and the odd knickknack that adorned them. The center of the room was occupied by a large writing desk that was cluttered with papers that showed pictures of diagrams and maps. Envelopes littered over the top. The colors of their broken wax seals like tiny red paint drops splattered across the parchment. Behind the writing desk was a large ornate wooden chair with a red velvet cushion in its seat, into which Romulus sat with his hands coming up to clasp each other, his elbows resting on the cluttered writing desk. Then Romulus fixed such a piercing stare upon his daughter it could have rivaled that of the most experienced court judge.

There had never been a time were Valhallarama had ever felt smaller.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to her, Romulus took in a deep breath and began to speak. "Valhallarama, this morning I along with several others escorted an entire flock of sheep back into a pen. This would not have had to occur if you had followed my orders and stopped your reckless actions. In light of resent events and the results of your misbehavior I am restricting your freedom to the house. You will not leave until I believe you have learned your lesson and as an added punishment you will be conducting all of the chores around the house until I say you may stop. I have already spoken with your mother about this last night so there's no getting out of it. Also you should consider yourself lucky. There is a storm coming so you won't be able to leave the house for several days anyway. Just try to think of this as a learning experience. Now, you may go." And with that as an end to the conversation Romulus waved his hand to her in a shewing motion before shuffling through the mass of papers on his desk.

Valhallarama practically deflated at every word spoken. This was horrible. Her freedom was special to her, and being stuck for too long in a single area suffocated her, at least if she didn't have good reason to stay. But that wasn't the worst part, her _birthday _was coming tomorrow, would she not be having one because of this?

"You will still be having a birthday." Romulus stated. Valhallarama jolted up too see her father still looking at his paper work. Valhallarama realized she must have accidentally said the last thought aloud, but let that embarrassment slide out of her mind as she smiled at the thought of still having her birthday, then her father spoke again. "You will just be having it here." Valhallarama's smile fell ever so slightly, but she was still happy that it wasn't canceled. She turned to leave the room believing her father had finished speaking with her when he held up a hand to stop her one more time "One more thing, I will be working from home for the next few days because of official business. I will be in my office most of the time but I will also be making sure you don't run off. Is that understood?"

"Yes daddy." Valhallarama stated before once again being given the shewing motion from her father. This time though Valhallarama quickly turned around and left the room without a second glance back.

Once outside of the study and the door securely closed behind her Valhallarama let out a sigh before leaning back against the door and sliding down to sit with her knees bent close to her body and her arms resting in her lap. She sat there for a good few minutes to take in all that had just happened. She new this wasn't as bad as it could have been but did he really have to _keep an eye on her?_ She wasn't an escaped convict. But then she came to the conclusion that if she was going to be stuck here from the storm anyway she might as well do what she's been told to pass the time. So with a small grumble she lifted herself from the ground to go and get the required cleaning materials.

First she began with the laundry, visiting each of the baskets that occupied the different bedrooms of the house. Starting with her parents room she found two baskets filled to the brim each sitting on opposite sides of the lavish bed to avoid confusion. Then she went into her brothers room. His clothes seemed to lay haphazardly across every space of floor that there was, luckily he had already left to go play at the docks so she didn't have to worry about him constantly complaining as she picked up an article of clothing he called clean but was clearly filthy. Next she went to her sisters room, her clothes all neatly placed inside the clothes bin in front of the foot of her bed. Valhallarama new she wouldn't be in her room. Crispina liked to get up even earlier than Valhallarama did so she could spend most of the mornings helping in the fields or practicing her sword play with the other children.

Valhallarama had been invited to play with them once. But, when she tried using the small sticks for swords they just felt strange in her palm, so off balance, and no mater which hand she placed it in the unoccupied hand always felt so twitchy like it needed to be included in _something_, but there just wasn't any room for it. What was worse was when she tried to hold the stick in her left hand to get a better feel for it, the other children complained about bad form and how only the right hand was supposed to be used. The hole concept confused her so thoroughly that when she was in the fighting circle she barely lasted two seconds before she was disarmed. "Don't worry about it," Crispina had told her "the sword just isn't your weapon."

"Really," Valhallarama had retorted "And what _other _weapon can I pick up?" She couldn't help but feel a little disheartened when Crispina couldn't answer her question.

Filtering away from those thoughts Valhallarama continued with removing her sisters laundry. Once she had all the soiled linens gathered in a central location of the atrium she went over to the front of the house and opened the door to the left unveiling a large supply closet. It had all types of tools, weapons, and cleaning supplies packed up against the wall. Several small wooden crates and chests, too what they contained remained a mystery to her, filled the center of the room. Manuvering around the clutter she managed to find the washing rack and the large tub that was used for cleaning linens. She dragged the supplies out to the atrium where she placed them next to the large pile of clothes.

After filling the large tub with water and poring in a generous amount of soap to be mixed, she began scrubbing at the linens until the were adequately cleaned. At each clean basket filled she proceeded to the back yard where she set the clean linens and clothes out to dry on the line. It was a slow processes, and by the time she was almost finished the sun had already reached it's peak in the sky. When she came back in to fill up the bin one more time to finish pining up the clean clothes, however, she found them already being carried toward her by her mother. Valhallarama stopped in her tracks before blurting out "Momma your back home."

"Well of course I am sweet heart," Antistia stated as she walked past her daughter and out into the backyard "I just had a few things to take care of this morning."

Valhallarama quickly walked up too her mother and pulled on her dress as she began pining a large robe on the line. "Momma, you shouldn't be doing this, daddy said I was supposed to do the chores."

"That's true." Antistia said continuing with her work without stopping at her daughters words "But he never said I couldn't help." At this, Valhallarama looked up at her mother in surprise before she focused in on the cunning smile that graced her mothers face "Now, how about you go grab the broom and sweep the stone floor in the atrium."

Valhallarama smiled at this before quickly turning around to carry out her mothers orders. She ran over to the tub of soapy water dragging it back out of the house to dump the soiled water before placing it back in the closet and switching it out with the broom to begin sweeping.

In Valhallarama's hands the broom looked a little ridiculous. It was twice her height and she ended up having to hold it against her body in order to efficiently use it, it was a slow process dew to its length but she managed. It was half way into the afternoon when she was only a few paces of stone left to sweep in the atrium. It was also at this time that Remus walked in to the house. Valhallarama was so focused on her task she didn't even notice him enter the room. Remus however saw Valhallarama's ignorance to his presence and a sly smile spread across his face. He quickly left the house allowing the door to stay open as he quickly searched for a stick too use as a sword.

During his time on the docks that morning he had seen the older men practicing with their weapons and he wanted to try and repeat the different forms he had witnessed on someone who he could use as an easy dummy. He originally was going to use Crispina, but when he thought about it she was a more advanced level of an opponent than he wanted. _Not that he'd ever tell HER that._ So Valhallarama became his next best target of practice. However, through his search he ended up not finding a sturdy enough stick but did manage to find a small wooden pole that was of a descent length for him. After claiming his find he quickly snuck back into the house and through the hall. He hid behind the pillars standing in the middle of the atrium sneaking from one pillar to the next to get closer to his opponent.

During this time Valhallarama was still focusing her attention on her sweeping, but she was constantly being drawn away from her task by a small tingling in the back of her head that made her feel like she was being watched. She paused her work for just a moment in order to turn around and look at her surroundings when Remus chose that moment to pounce. He swung the post down in a long ark toward his sisters right shoulder. Valhallarama reeled back from the oncoming attack as the wood whooshed just past her. Remus, practiced in sword fighting, took a step forward and continued the swing using the polls' momentum to swerve back toward her leg. This time however, it made contact.

Now, he wasn't intending to hit her hard, just enough to know he'd got her. After all the hit on any other child would have shook them off balance and made them wince at best. But Remus didn't bother to apply the fact that Valhallarama was much smaller, much less experienced and already caught off balance from trying to avoid the first strike. So, when it came in to contact with her leg, it hit with enough force to knock both of her legs right out from under her.

Valhallarama ended up falling flat on her back against the unforgiving stone floor, sending vibrations through her body and knocking the breath right out of her lungs. The broom, amazingly still in her hands, was lying across her torso. The leg that had been struck already felt like it had a long welt forming on it and her head was reeling from the sudden contact with the floor, she couldn't think. She only just registered that her brother now stood above her and that the wood post was now heading strait for her chest.

She didn't know what made her do it, but her body seemed to respond for her in a moment of self preservation. Both of her arms thrust outward with her hands clenched down on the broom handle about shoulder width apart. Forcing the pole to come crashing down onto the broomstick with a loud CRACK. The strength behind the blow was too much to stop completely but her body seemed to have that thought out for her as her arms swiveled the broom around, her right hand opening and pulling back to allow the pole to slide harmlessly to the ground and the left arm clenching harder and pushing forward to have the other end slam right into the side of her older brothers head. All this happened so fast that Valhallarama didn't even realize she had done it until she heard her brothers moan coming from beside her.

The broom was dropped by Valhallarama like it had spontaneously combusted in her hands when she realized what had just occurred. With her legs still in to much pain to actually use, she crawled over to her brothers current position. The sound of the two improvised weapons coming together had alerted both watchful parents and had them both come running in to the atrium, only to see the scene now displayed before them. A broomstick and a pole laying haphazard on the ground. Their son curled up on the ground, clutching his head and their youngest daughter hovering over him with a mixed look of shock, worry, and horror. Antistia gasped and ran to her son, still holding a towel in her hands that she had been using too dry dishes with. While Romulus quickly strode over to the pair, his voice booming as he yelled "WHAT HAPPENED!?" His face the very essence of rage as his eyes landed on his daughter for explanation.

"I-" Valhallarama stuttered, her voice coming out shaky after such a horrifying experience and out of fear of her fathers reaction "I- d-didn't m-m-mean...-he w-was- a-and I-j-just -I'm s-s-sorry!" tears were now streaming down her face and her body was shaking from the mixture of adrenalin and shock coursing through her.

"Go too your room!" Romulus yelled as he thrust his hand up to point for emphases, but Valhallarama was too stunned from previous occurrences and couldn't bring her self to move.

"Now Romulus please!" Antistia tried to console her husband as she held her son "We don't even know what really happened!"

"Don't even know what HAPPENED!?" Romulus roared in fury and annoyance "Antistia do you not see what is in front of you? She's done something wrong again and because of it our son is laying in your arms barely conscious! What more is there to know?!"

"Romulus!" Antistia screeched, appalled by her husbands rash accusation. Gently setting her son back down on the ground she stood up too face Romulus "You _know_ she's never done anything on purpose! It was just an accident! Stop jumping to conclus-" But that was as far as she got into defending her daughter before a harsh wave of coughing descended upon her. Romulus's eye's widened at the sight of his wife suddenly fighting for breath, but just as he reached out to her to try and calm her down Valhallarama seemed too find her ability to move in that moment and reached out for her first.

"Momma!" She cried out in fright by her mothers distress, but just as her tiny fingers rapped around the fabric of her mothers dress the coughing escalated into a torrent so harsh that Antistia doubled over.

Romulus could only stare as the reaction unfolded in front of his eyes before he reached out and grasped onto Valhallarama's wrist, tearing it away from his wife and stared at it for several moments before whispering "Atticus was right." For a moment, all was still, except for the sounds of hacking now emanating from Antistia before Romulus stated lowly "Go to your room."

"But Mo-"

"I SAID! Go! To! Your! Room! And stay in there!" He emphasized this by shoving her arm away in the direction of her room. The motion almost toppling her over before she twisted around and ran for the sanctity of her room. The last thing she saw before closing the door was her mother pulling away the towel that had covered her face during the time she was coughing and seeing a bright red splotch of blood pull away with it.

Valhallarama dared not to leave her room for the rest of the day.

February 28th

When Valhallarama had woken up the next morning she stayed laying in her bed, just staring at the ceiling. Her mind plagued by the nightmares that had occurred from last night. The sound of her father furius voice, the hacking of her mother, the sharp crack from the contacting wood, and the blood. Then, as if to spray salt on the wound, everything that she had heard afterwords once isolated in her room.

First she had heard the sound of Remus being carried into his room before Romulus guided Antistia into their bedroom to lay down until he found a doctor. The sound of the door opening and closing signaled Crispina's arrival home just before Romulus's voice came through saying too her older sister too watch over her brother and mother and to "not let _her_ out.". Then a little while later the sound of the doctor's shuffling and her fathers quick stride re-entered the house. After what seemed like an eternity as the two men exchanged between Remus and her parents room's, the doctor walked back out in the middle of the atrium with her father. Once there the doctor proceeded in such a low voice that Valhallarama had to concentrate too hear the few words that she did.

"Boy...bad...live...concussion...wife...intense...very ill."

Those words, though so few, meant so much and Valhallarama had never felt worse in her life. She could not understand what had happened. Just two days ago, everything was perfect. But now she could barely breath from the amount of worry she now felt in her heart for her mother and elder brother. She wanted to do so much but new she couldn't even leave the confines of her room without facing the wrath of her father. So she simply laid there drowning in her thoughts until a knock on her door startled her into consciousness. At first she believed her father was about to come in and yell about last nights events, and she shrank back against the headboard of her bed out of fear. When Crispina's form walked through the door Valhallarama relaxed from her tight position and almost opened her mouth to say how happy she was too see her when Crispina's voice cut her off. "She want's to see you."

Valhallarama stared for a moment, wishing to just rush out of the room to embrace her mother but she quickly remembered her fathers order and fear once again rooted her to the spot. "He's not out there, it's okay." Crispina consoled, noticing her sisters hesitation.

Valhallarama slowly got out of her bed before walking over to her sister who turned around and began walking across the atrium. Not knowing what else to do, Valhallarama followed her sister until she came up to their parents room. Once there Crispina opened the door and held it open for her younger sister to walk inside, before closing it behind her.

Antistia was standing just across the room, a solemn look the only thing adorning her face. She gazed out the window at the graying clouds above that were slowly sapping the light away from the day in warning of the fast approaching storm. When she noticed her youngest daughter's presence she waved for her to come closer before pointing to the bed and saying "Under there you will find a flat box with a red ribbon on it. Please, pull it out and lay it on the bed." The rasping voice that came from her mothers throat sounded so foreign to Valhallarama, compared to the majestic and noble sound she had always associated with the woman, that if she had not seen Antistia's mouth move she would not have believed her to have said it.

Not wishing for her mother to have to speak twice Valhallarama did as she was requested in as quickly a manner as she could without causing damage too the box. After she set the box on the bed Antistia rasped "Open it." Valhallarama then unwrapped the red silk ribbon from around the white box and carefully lifted the lid like it contained the most fragile things in the world. What she saw placed in the box was a small necklace with a circular wooden pendent that had the Roman empires crest of the double headed black bird engraved into its surface. Beneath that was a type of soft sky blue cloth.

Antistia then walked over to stand next to Valhallarama before lifting up the necklace and turning it over for Valhallarama to see the other side. While one side of the pendent held the Roman Empires crest, the opposite side of the pendent depicted a dragons head with a long spiraling tail swirling into the center of the circle in a counterclockwise direction. Once Valhallarama hand seen the other engraving Antistia placed the necklace over Valhallarama's head whispering very quietly "This is a pendant that was made by one of my earliest ancestors for his beloved. It has been passed down many generations. Now I pass it down too you." After placing the pendant down onto her neck Antistia grabbed the night gown Valhallarama wore and carefully began to remove the clothing. Valhallarama raised her arms to help with its removal before it was disposed of unceremoniously on the ground next to her. Next Antistia reached into the box a second time and pulled out the cloth that unfolded and revealed itself to be a small ankle length dress with short sleeves and a small golden sash that wrapped around the wearer's middle. As Antistia began to dress her daughter in the new clothing she rasped out "This is something I made for you so you could play in something your size." When Valhallarama was completely dressed she pulled out the pendent from underneath the clothing before her mother placed it back beneath the cloth. "It is a secret family heirloom," She had explained "not even your father knows I have this." And for added emphasis she placed her finger to her mouth to which Valhallarama immediately followed. Then Antistia grasped Valhallarama's hand and placed it on the underside of the golden sash. Valhallarama quickly felt a hurried stitching spot that felt like an out of place patching. Then as she felt further her tiny hands picked up a small but hard lump that was trapped inside of the stitching. Valhallarama looked up at her mother for explanation when her mother whispered out. "This is something I received many years ago. It is the diamond that your father had given to me when we had just married. It is small, but it still caries a great deal of wealth. Keep it for as long as you can until you find something very important to use it for."

After giving all three gifts to her daughter Antistia guided her over to a small stool where she had Valhallarama stand on it as she knelt down a began to brush out her hair. Once the hair was completely smooth Antistia turned Valhallarama around and kissed her on her forehead for several seconds before releasing her. Antistia held her daughters face in-between her hands, delicately grazing her thumb across Valhallarama's cheek until a little hand came up to hold on to it.

Both mother and daughter just stared at each others faces for several moments before Antistia quietly said "I love you, so much... Please, remember that."

"Of course I will momma," Valhallarama answered "I love you too."

Antistia smiled at her daughter before gently letting go of her daughters face and moving herself back to her bed. After Antistia was tucked back into her bed she looked at her daughter and she said the last words Valhallarama ever thought would come out of her mouth. "How about you go out side for a while and stay on the roof for a bit too enjoy the good weather before it leaves." Valhallarama stood in the middle of the room just staring at her mother in shock. Only when Antistia looked up from her pillow and smiled at her daughter that she moved too go and enjoy this small moment of freedom granted too her by her mother.

As she opened the door to step out into the atrium Crispina flowed into the room carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup sitting at its center. Valhallarama quickly rushed passed her, down the hall, and through the door before turning and climbing up the side wall she's used so many times before. She settles down on the roof's edge to stare out at the currently vacant town before her, breathing in the air she's missed so much and relishing in the loss of her worries for just a moment. She sat there on the roof for a good hour just watching the clouds grow darker and feeling the wind get stronger.

It was just as the first rain drop fell on the roof that she noticed someone. But when she took further notice of him, she had to look hard on him to make sure she was seeing things right. The man stood just off to the side of the main street and was dressed in a simple tunic and pants that would be used for regular ware by the commoners. But what caught Valhallarama's attention was the wooden mask he wore on his face and the fact that it was staring at her. Another droplet fell on her right leg this time and she saw another person slowly make their way from behind another building wearing the exact same mask. As more drops continued to fall it seemed more masked people unveiled themselves from behind buildings, walking up the street, and coming around carts.

Every. Last. One of them. Just _staring_ at her in complete silence. Suddenly, a great war cry emanated from somewhere within the crowd, and like a signal to begin, the entire swarm of people began sprinting toward the building yelling out and cursing into the sky. Valhallarama froze in place as the crowd continued to move toward the house until one of the people threw a rock toward her and made contact with her right shoulder.

Valhallarama cried out in pain and fright from the impact, grasping at her shoulder to ease the pain. As more rocks began to descended upon her, she shot up and swiveled on the spot to dart across the roof to the opposite side. She grabbed the edge of the roof and swung down, flinging her self through her bedroom window. She landed on the floor with a quick thump before practically running over her bed and out of her door. "MOMMA!" She screamed sprinting across the atrium. Her heart was beating in frantic rhythms from the absolute terror that washed through her. The mob now pounding on her front door with great fists. She could hear them yelling out "Kill the Runt!" "Make it pay!"

She only sprinted harder toward the door that her mother resided behind before yanking it open with all her might and darting inside. She ran to her mother's side of the bed before reaching out and grabbing the sleeve of her mother's night gown and giving it a great shake as she sobbed out "MOMMA! MOMMA Wake up! There are scary people outside! Please, they're gonna hurt me! MOMMA! Please wake up!" But her mother didn't wake up to her daughters pleading, and as she continued Valhallarama began to realize Antistia wasn't going to wake up at all. Valhallarama let go of her mothers sleeve and slowly backed away from her mothers form. Her heart breaking with each step she took until she was pressed up against the wall where she stood frozen, staring at her mothers face. Pail and sickly, it still looked so peaceful as if she had just fallen to sleep with a good dream.

A single tear trailed down Valhallaramas stricken face and landed on the ground. Her mother was dead.

A great and powerful crash echoed through the house as the mob finally broke down the door. Valhallarama jumped from the noise but didn't remove her eyes from her mother. She kept on looking until a large man kicked down the door of the bed room, grabbed a hold of her injured shoulder, and roughly yanked her off her feet to drag her out the door.

The masked man didn't speak as he dragged her across the floor of the atrium. Valhallarama, to shocked from her mothers death, and frightened by what might happen to her, couldn't bring herself too move. She just managed to look up enough to see her elder sisters door being bared closed by two men who vibrated each time the other side was struck. Loud screeching and yelling coming from none other than her sister on the other side.

The masked man dragged her down the hall and then out the door into the escalating storm. The howling wind whipped at her hair and dress, as the rain now fell hard and fast upon her face, soaking her almost instantly. She looked up to see the mob, soaked to the bone with water dripping down the wood of their masks now crowded around the doorway and moving about as if in anticipation. Valhallarama cried out as the grip on her shoulder suddenly tightened and the nails of the man's fingers ground themselves into the soft flesh before she was ripped from the round and thrust into the sky. She hung there by her shoulder for all to see as the man held her like a great trophy. At this, the crowd yelled and roared in triumph.

Valhallarama was then carried across town in that position, each bump and jar that came from the man's walk sending a jolt of pain through her shoulder. The mob surrounded her and the man, circling them like sharks around easy prey. Finally the man turned away from the main road and began walking away from the town toward the low cliff face. As they approached, Valhallarama slowly began to see through the thick rain and notice a small boat perched at the edge of the cliff face. It looked like it would fall apart at any second. Its sail was tattered and torn from what seemed like years of sailing and the body looked like the boards were being held together by patchwork.

When they reached the edge of the overhanging ridge she had only a second to glimpse at the crashing waves just ten feet below before she was roughly thrust into the bed of the boat.

With her body shivering and her fingers beginning to go numb from the intense cold of the icy rain, she tried to get up on her feet but was held down by the man's large hand, now pressing into her back, before she could move. Then the man finally spoke in a rough voice full of command "Bring the chain!" and a person ran out from the crowd carrying a set of iron shackles.

The man then proceeded to lift Valhallarama up grasping her arm in a tight grip so as to make sure she couldn't leave. He didn't need to. For Valhallarama might as well have been considered paralyzed the moment the man's voice left his mouth. She stared at the hazel eyes that were set in concentration as he ran one end of the two foot chain through a hole that had been carved through the mast on the boat. His thick dark brown hair, so much like hers whipping about him in the wind as he grabbed the open shackles and tightened them to a crushing pressure over Valhallarama's wrists.

"daddy?"

The word that left Valhallarama's mouth was so quiet that had he not been standing so close to her he would never have heard it over the noise of the storm. The man's mask faced her for just a moment before a work weathered hand came up to remove it revealing Romulus underneath. He glared down at her with a look of utter disgust and hatred before promptly smacking her across the face.

The strike hit her so hard she was pushed backwards from the force, she fell to the bed of the boat with her arms lifted from the ground and stretched tight by the shackles that still held firm to her wrists. She managed a gasp of pain before Romulus growled out "YOU do NOT call me that! I made a mistake years ago to let you live because I thought that it was nonsense to believe a child could do so much damage. But now," Romulus's voice seemed to falter and choke before he continued on in a pained voice "Now, you've stripped my son of his speech and you've taken my wife from this world! I made a mistake years ago and now it's time to correct it!"

Romulus went over to the back of the boat and placed his foot down on the stern before giving Valhallarama one final look and saying "Go drown in the ocean you damn runt."

With that Romulus gave a great push against the boat and it was thrust off of the cliff. The sensation of falling slowly came over Valhallarama as gravity took its course and she fell with the boat down into the raging ocean below.

TO BE CONTINUED

**Oh, I'm so evil.**

**Believe me I'm screaming internally too. I am so happy to finally have this chapter finished but my fingers are already itching to write the next one even as I type this out. A few small notes can be found just underneath to answer a few questions you might have. **

*** If you want to see a diagram of the inside of the house Valhallarama and her family lived in go to this link. (I tried putting the link in as a whole but it wouldn't let me so that's why its in pieces, if you just type it out in order and exactly as it is you'll go strait to the web page)**

**www.**

**vroma.**

**org**

** /~bmcmanus/house.**

**html**

**Her house's layout is based upon what you see in the diagram but I excluded anything that went further back from the study. That's the purple 'Ta' for those who don't understand.**

**^ Yes I do understand that Valhallarama's birthday is very likely not on February the 28th but I found it a bit funny and it _might_ be used as an upcoming gag.**

**Some of this has roman culture in it, some of it doesn't. I'ts kind of a mixed mash town since it's like on the outskirts of the empire and more of an out-there, country sort of setting.**

**I also understand I gave her her book name rather than her movie name even though this is supposed to be a base off of the movie. There is a reason for this. Which will be explained in the second chapter.**

**Until next time.**


	3. The Storm, and The New Life

**I own nothing.**

**HAPPY PRESIDENT'S DAY!**

**I would like to thank those who have commented on this story so far, and say how wonderful it is that people like my story.**

**I would also like to say ****I had originally wanted this chapter to be longer but realized that it didn't fit the rhythm of the story I wanted. So I chopped it in two. And I'm giving you two chapters instead of just one. Sorry for the wait.**

**Happy Reading**

The Storm, and The New Life

Thunder and lightning crashed above as the raging ocean waves roared and crashed into each other for supremacy. The rain came down like bullets from the sky as the wind tore and howled through the air. The little ragged boat was barely bobbing around in the water as waves as high as mountains tossed it about as if it were merely a toy.

Valhallarama's form was numb from the constant icy sprays of water and the unforgiving chill of the wind. The dress she now wore was tattered from the constant barrages of water and bits of her soaked hair clung to her face.

The force of each wave crashing into the boat tossed her around like a rag doll, beating her already sore and battered body against the wood. The only thing that still kept her from being thrown overboard were the chains that were attached to the mast, the shackles now digging so harshly into her wrists she could feel the harsh sting of the saltwater as it entered the now raw and lacerated skin.

The tattered sail rippled just above her head uselessly and the chains rattled against each other from the winds demanding obedience.

Even through all this chaos happening around her Valhallarama could still hear her father's voice booming in her ears louder than even the waves that crashed around her.

"Go drown in the ocean you damn runt!"

"You damn runt!"

"Damn runt!"

Tears left her eyes to join the rain drops already streaming down her face. Valhallarama could barely breathe from the pain she felt. She'd been exiled by her own father and left out here to die. It had already been two days since the moment she'd been kicked into the sea, but she had lost sight of the land she called home not an hour after being cast. The waves had snatched up the rickety boat and thrust it into deeper waters so quickly, as if to remove any hope of being able to swim back. It must have been a miracle the waves didn't immediately smash the boat against the side of the cliff, but that didn't matter now. She'd lost everything: her home, her family, her life, everything. She had never felt so much despair in her life.

Valhallarama was thrust out of her thoughts as her little boat was struck once again by another crashing wave. The force of the impact blew the boat into the air for a moment before landing with a resounding splash back into the water. Valhallarama's body having no choice but to fall, face first, on to the deck. Valhallarama used all the strength she had left to push herself over to lay on her back. When she looked up from the boat's deck, she managed to focus just enough through the thick rain to see the waves now before her.

There were two of them, each of them easily big enough to cover her entire town, and they were both heading straight down to impact the tiny boat head on. Valhallarama had just enough time to take in a deep breath, close her eyes and wrap her hands around the chains before the two waves simultaneously impacted the boat. The boat shattered on impact and Valhallarama was thrust deep into the water.

Silence surrounded her. The pain of the impact had knocked all the wind from her lungs. She had been twisted around so many times under the water that now she was finally still, she could not begin to tell where up or down was. The water that surrounded her suspended her in the darkness that her closed eyes provided.

_This must be the end. _She thought_. But,... I didn't know dying could be so peaceful. This might not be so bad. It's better than being in pain. I'll be free, and I might even get to see Momma again. What is there to continue for? _As this thought left her head Valhallarama began to relax and allow the remaining air in her lungs to flow out of her before awaiting the expected release.

But just before the numbness could consume her body, she felt a slow tug on her wrists as she was pulled out of the stilling silence by an unknown force. She kept being pulled faster and faster, the water filtering around her and a muffled noise getting louder as she rose until she burst through the water's surface. Like a plug that was suddenly removed, all the sounds from the storm suddenly crashed into her ears once more. She gasped in the air around her before harshly coughing up the water that had entered her lungs. Her eyes opened to see the storm's continuing battle around her. The shackles once again tugged on her wrists and she looked over to see the broken mast floating on the surface of the water, the chains still relentlessly attached.

Using the chains to pull herself over to it she wrapped her arms around the wood and clutched to it with all her might. The waves crashed around her, tossing her and the mast to and fro. But every time she was pushed under the mast always floated back to the surface pulling her along with it, almost refusing her the ability to die.

With all the chaos around her, Valhallarama's muscles shook with the effort to continue holding on to the mast that had deemed it necessary she live. Her mind fighting to stay awake through the storm.

Suddenly, it was just gone.

The waves died down, the wind settled to a whisper, and the clouds parted from the night sky.

Valhallarama slowly opened her eyes when she felt the wind calmly caressing her face. She watched as the water now carefully rocked her back and forth, as if she were in a cradle. Then, light slowly formed on the surface of the water. It colored the water around her like a never-ending kaleidoscope. Wishing desperately to know where it came from, Valhallarama strained her muscles to lift her head from the mast and look up into the sky. The sight she beheld was so beautiful she couldn't believe her eyes.

The very sky that had once held nothing but darkness was now filled with ribbons of light. They seemed to flow and shimmer like water across the sky as they changed from one color to the next. The vast amount of stars that hung above them shined brighter than she'd ever seen them before. This breathtaking view was the last thing she saw before laying her head back down on the broken mast and passing out from exhaustion.

As Valhallarama slept peacefully for the first time in almost three days, the mast was slowly pushed across the water by a sea-green snout into far more northern waters.*

(March 3rd)

A short and rather pudgy boy of about ten years, walked along the southern beach of Berk. His stubby legs kicking up sand and dirtying up his red trousers as he walked. His small four-horned helmet bouncing atop the blondish red hair on his head with each step. His face was a picture of utter boredom as he was tasked by his father to find a missing fishing net that disconnected from his boat. Apparently, he had seen it wash up on this side of the beach.

But that had been a good two hours ago, and he still hadn't found anything. Of course it couldn't have washed up on the parts of the beach that you could see everything from afar. Oh, no. It had to wash up on the narrow side of the beach where the large rock cliff faces jutted out like huge walls making the beach sharply twist and turn around them, and making it impossible to see behind them until you were already there.

The boy sighed from his boredom and annoyance as he kicked up another patch of sand, just as the wind blew and tossed it back into his face. "GUAAGHRRR!" The boy yelled as he slammed his eyes shut from the sudden sting. He shoved his hands against his face and began to back pedal in directions unknown until his fur-booted foot hit hard against something, effectively tossing him onto his back in the sand.

The boy groaned as he slowly lifted his body from the ground to look at the object he'd tripped over. His eyes first met with a large piece of broken wood that his left foot still rested on. It looked like it had been cracked apart from a much longer object. The boy, having some recognition with the parts of a boat, quickly deduced the wood to be part of a small mast when he noticed the fist-sized hole that seemed to be carved into the middle of it. Slithering out of this hole, like a metal black snake, was a chain that ran over the wood and disappeared on the opposite side.

The boy lifted his head only a few inches more to see the chain continue on its path before finishing in a pair of shackles that clung to the wrists of a water-soaked body that lay on its stomach. Long brown hair covered the face of the person but the ripped and sand-ridden blue dress told the boy this person was a very small girl. His jaw dropped and his mind went blank for a few seconds before he shot up from his position from the ground, and without even a second glance back sprinted his way back up the beach crying out "CHIEF HALDOR! CHIEEEEFFF HALDOOOR!"

As the boy ran away, the tide came in for just a moment to completely sweep away the large webbed and clawed footprint that had been placed in the sand only minutes before.

Valhallarama slowly awoke from dead sleep. Her brain felt fuzzy and her body was stiff and cold, but she could still feel the tight pull the chains still had on her wrists. She took in a deep breath and found her throat burning from the lack of water for three days. The thought of water had her start thinking about the ocean and how, strangely, she no longer felt the constant rock of the waves underneath her any more. Instead she felt a warm grittiness pressing against her cheek instead. As her consciousness continued to rejoin her she began to hear the waves rolling in and out of a beach just behind where she lay now, and she heard voices. They were muffled voices coming from above her, speaking in some type of garbled mess that she couldn't make out.

Then she heard the sound of wood being dragged across the ground. She felt her chains change position slightly, pulling her wrists more to the left of her body. A few seconds later and she heard a rough voice give off a grunt before a loud crack resounded from just a few feet away, and the strain of the chains quickly slackened against her wrists in response. She felt her dripping hair drag across her face as a solitary finger dragged the tresses out of the way. Her eyes scrunched tighter to try to shield them from the sunshine that now cast itself unhindered onto her face. Then a hand that was the same length as her entire torso lifted her up and twisted her around to where she was now facing up toward the blinding sunlight. She managed to open her eyes ever so slightly when a great shadow overcast her face.

At first her sight came to her in a large blur of red, silver and yellow, before her eyes slowly began to refocus on the face that now presided above her. The first thing that caught her eyes was the beard. It was of one of the deepest colors of red she had ever seen. Not only that but it fanned out around him in a thick matted mess that extended all the way down to tickle at her skin. The entire bottom half of his face, from his nose down, was completely obscured by the amount of hair that presided on the man's face. Only a small sliver of skin showed through the thick hair to signify the presence of a bottom lip.

As the beard continued up the side of the man's face, it joined a mess of bright red hair that flowed out behind the man's head like a thick wave. Sitting on top of all this hair was a huge metal helmet, with the two largest bull horns she had ever seen sticking out from either side. Looking away from that and back down at the amount of face she could see, she noticed that the face consisted mostly of a very large nose that extended down into a long mustache. The man's cheeks peeked out from above his mustache and cradled the tiny set of blue eyes that were adorned with thick red eyebrows. As she took in the slight amount of wrinkles to his face she guessed he was about in his early- or mid-thirties.

The man was also very, very, VERY LARGE.

The largest men she had ever seen coming into the docks weren't even half this man's size. The very waist of this man was as thick as an ancient oak tree's trunk, and the yellow tunic he wore could be used as a large tent for her. The bear fur cape that adorned his back could have covered up a king-sized bed easily, and the man was built like a boulder.

She was surprised, shocked and astounded by the man's great size, but due to her lack of pure consciousness yet, her face took on a look of dazed wonder.^ Then the man began to speak. His beard seemed to move around and the sliver of skin rose, fell and twisted as he spoke. It was a strong deep voice with great command behind it even in its low volume. But the only thing she heard come out of his mouth was.

"Hvor kommer du fra?"

She just stared at him for a moment as if he had just grown a second head. After a few seconds of silence the man noticed her confusion and repeated himself.

"Hvor kommer du fra?"

When she listened to the wording a second time she knew that it wasn't Latin, but some of the words he spoke were familiar to her. "Kommer" sounded an awful lot like "come" and "fra" sounded like a mangled version of "from". From the few words she could make out, she quickly deduced he was trying to ask where she came from.

When she tried to answer him, however, her throat only emitted a small croak from the lack of water it still desperately desired. The man quickly turned to someone behind him that she couldn't see and ordered out something that sounded like "vann!". The large man then reached out for something that was being handed to him before a small clay container was placed at her mouth. Water was graciously poured out of it and into her mouth. She quickly began swallowing it down, coughing only a few times when it was poured too fast and overflowed a few times. Even after accepting the water, her throat still refused to give more than a small crackle of voice. Having no other way to answer him Valhallarama thought for just a moment before reaching her hand up to pull out the necklace from underneath her soaked robes. It had the Roman insignia on it; if she could just show it to him then she could answer him. Her fingers wouldn't cooperate with her though and the weight of the shackles still attached to her wrists didn't help her endeavor. It took many tries to wrap her fingers around the string that still clung to her neck before she could pull it out from beneath the soaked cloth.

The large man watched her pull out the necklace and then focused his eyes hard on the pendant. It twisted out of her grasp and her hand flopped back onto the sand from the exhausting effort it put her through just to do the simple task. When it landed back down on the girl's chest, the black crest of the Roman Empire glared up at him. The man gave a deep frown toward the pendant's significance before picking it up with his free hand to study it more. As he picked it up he felt a second side to the wooden engraving. When he flipped the pendant over in his hand, he found the bright red swirling dragon insignia of his very own tribe shining up at him.

Valhallarama watched the man's face switch from displeasure to confusion and then change to deep thought as he studied the pendant. As footsteps came toward the large man from behind, he encased the pendant in his hand until it was completely covered by his massive palm before turning to listen as a voice came from behind, asking the large man a question.

"Hva er historien om jenta, Chief?"

The large man paused for a moment before speaking "Hun er en utstøtt fra en ukjent land, jeg vil ta henne til gotisk for råd før jeg gjør noen endelige avgjørelser." Then he rose from the ground taking Valhallarama with him at the same time he said "Gå og spre ordet til byen at vi skal ha en besøkende for en som på ennå ubestemt tidsrom."

"Ja, sjef Haldor" And with that the other man ran off to obey the order of his superior.

As the large man began to walk, with her cradled in his log-like arms, Valhallarama stared up at the man's face, thinking back to the last words spoken by the other man. She thought for a good long time as they walked across the beach until the words finally clicked in her mind and she slowly enunciated "Sssseff Hauuldoor." The man swiveled his head down to look at her, one eyebrow only slightly rising at her words before she asked again "Sjeef H-Haldoor?" Valhallarama pointed toward the man's face with her tiny finger, her chains rattling as she did so, to emphasize the meaning of the question. He gave her a calculating look, before giving a slight nod to her question and continuing his pace. She smiled knowing that was his name now and tucked the pendant underneath her clothing before contently snuggling closer to the warmth of his body.

He only said one last thing before the rest of the trip was filled with silence. "Hvis gotisk bestemmer du skal leve, minst vil du lære raskt."

Valhallarama kept her eyes closed trying to regain a little more strength. She listened to the boots that thumped with each step, as Chief Haldor carried her across wooden planks that creaked underneath his immense weight. She only opened her eyes when the Chief began to rock back and forth, to see him climbing up a massive winding staircase that was embedded in the side of a large rock spire. As her eyes followed the path of the staircase she sighted a small wooden house-like structure, perched at the very top. When she studied it closer she could see long pieces of wood jutting out from the rock spire and holding up the house like the legs on a spider.

As they climbed higher she felt the cold wind gust around her, and she shivered in her wet garments. The Chief, used to the island's cold weather, didn't even spare it a second glance before reaching the top stair and opening the wooden door leading into the house. Valhallarama peeked over the large arm that held her to see the one-roomed home.

The inside of the home was dusty and molded over in some places, and when she breathed in her nose was assaulted by burning oils and herbs that were scattered about in random places. Some of the wood planks that made up the walls where crooked in their placement which allowed sunbeams to dot the hardwood floor, a constant whistling streamed through the house as the wind slithered through the cracks.

Bookshelves and desks ran along the left side of the room, adorned with bowls and jars that were filled with miscellaneous objects ranging from sprigs of thyme, to bones, to things Valhallarama couldn't even name. Tattered old books were placed haphazardly around these objects and ancient scrolls filled in the last spaces left over.

Looking to the right of the room and closest to the door was a small bed frame made entirely of wood planks. The soft mattress filled with feathers or straw that she was used to was absent; a single stitched pillow and an old stained blanket the only two bed-clothes adorning it. In the far right corner a small fire crackled in a rock chimney. A single boiling pot, hanging by a metal rod, hovered over the flames as they licked at its dark surface. At the very back of the room a large brown curtain hung over a doorway to the outside.

Before she had the ability to look further she was quickly picked up by the Chief like a lost puppy and placed in the middle of the wood floor. Her chains rattled as they connected with the floor and a small cloud of dust puffed up making her sneeze. She looked up at the Chief in confusion, who simply turned toward the curtain in the back of the room and said "Gotisk, jeg ønsker for dine råd."

Valhallarama looked over at the curtain which was shifted over by an aged and bony hand. She saw a quick glimpse of a wooden deck that faced toward the vast ocean before an old and decrepit woman stepped through the threshold. She was dressed in a mismatch of brown and tan fur and the staff she bore was crooked and bent in odd places like it was made from a branch of a tree and never straightened. The top of this staff, which stood about a foot above her helmet's thin curved horns, was carved into the shape of a dragon's head, its mouth open as if in a valiant roar.

The woman herself, must have been in her early sixties, as far as Valhallarama could tell, and her long graying hair was braided on each side of her head, the ends hanging in front of her and dangling just above her waist. Her stature, compared to the chief, was tiny. And if she stood up, Valhallarama would even be able to outstrip this woman in height. Her bony limbs stretched out around her near circular body, and the small hunch on her back curved her into a permanent slouch. The face of the woman looked owlish, with the near circular shape it portrayed and the beak of a nose. The large blue eyes of the woman focused on Valhallarama as if looking through her very soul.

The Chief opened his mouth to speak but the woman held up an aged hand to silence him. The woman waddled along the floor, the wooden staff she carried in her right hand thunking on the floor as she walked. She neared one of the bookshelves and grabbed a bowl that was filled to the brim with bones. She then carried the bowl over to Valhallarama and placed it in front of her. Confused by the action, Valhallarama looked up at the woman for explanation. She only gave a small smile before gesturing toward the bowl and then holding up a single finger. Valhallarama could only assume that meant to take a bone from the small pile so she studied the bowl's contents.

Each bone inside of the bowl was completely different from the last. There were femur bones, rib bones, pieces of a cracked skull, shards from a broken pelvis, and bits of knuckle bones here and there. They weren't even all human bones. Some of them she was sure made up parts of a bird's wing. As she looked closer however, one bone seemed to stick out from all the rest. It was buried underneath some of the bones but she couldn't help but want a closer look. She reached her hand into the bowl and shuffled around the bones that were in her way, which clacked together as they were shifted, until her fingers wrapped around the desired bone and brought it up to her face to see it.

It was a tooth, a very large tooth. It was serrated on one end and smooth on the other like a snake's fangs and the curve of the tooth must have been four inches long. Before she had a chance to wonder what size the animal had to be in order to hold such a tooth, it was snatched from her hands by the old woman who then pointed toward the necklace that adorned Valhallarama's neck and gestured for her to remove it. Valhallarama hesitated at this instruction seeing as the necklace was one of the last gifts her mother would ever give to her, but as the woman continued to hold out her hand she understood that "no" wasn't going to be taken as an answer. So with great care she removed the double-sided pendant from around her neck and held it out for the woman to take.

Instead of the quick snatch that she was expecting the old woman instead gently removed the pendant from her hand as if it were a great treasure. The old woman then studied the pendant's two sides for just a moment before she wrapped the string around the tooth and tied it tight. The last thing she did was pluck three hairs from the top of Valhallarama's head, and wrapping those around the tooth as well, she waddled over to the fire and tossed it into the burning coals.

Valhallarama cried out at this and attempted to get up and run to rescue the pendant from the fire, but before she had the chance to move forward the Chief's large hand grabbed her torso and firmly held her back. Valhallarama desperately fought against his grip, but she might as well have been trying to shove over a boulder for all the progress she got from it. Suddenly a large crack echoed through the house making everyone freeze in place and look at the tooth that now lay broken in half on the coals. The heat of the fire underneath licked at the bone and burnt the hairs into the tooth like three rings of paint. The pendent, resting in the center of the two halves, slowly burned down to ashes.

A small sizzling noise came from the bone as the only warning before the entire tooth exploded inside of the fire. The old woman stared at the fire for several moments, her hand at her mouth and her grey brows scrunched together in deep thought. After a short while she turned away from the fire and grabbed a sandbag from one of the lower shelves of a bookcase. She placed the bag on the ground and ripped it open. She spread the sand over the floor before she began writing odd symbols in the dirt with the bottom of the staff.

At this gesture, the Chief promptly let go of Valhallarama and stepped toward the sand to inspect the writing as it came. At first he was the epitome of seriousness but as the figures grew in number on the sand the more surprised the Chief seemed to become. Finally, when the staff laid to rest back on the wood floor the Chief turned toward Valhallarama and studied her for a long while before the woman wiped the sand blank and restarted again. This time, she only wrote a few symbols down, to which the Chief grimaced toward but one wave from the woman and he turned around to walk out the door and close it behind him.

Valhallarama stared in confusion at where the Chief had exited only moments before. She could hear his heavy feet walking around out there, pacing back and forth. What had the woman told him that forced him to exit? Was something wrong?

"You certainly have a lot of questions on your mind, now don't you?"

Valhallarama, so used to the silence of the house, jumped and swirled around at the sudden use of speech. Her chains rattled across the ground as she turned and her eyes settled on the old woman.

"And by the look on your face," The woman smiled as she rasped "I believe I have just made more."

The woman's voice was gravely, like it had been several decades since she had last spoke a true word, and she only spoke in a whisper, as if anything louder would break whatever amount of voice she had.

"You speak Latin?" Valhallarama asked in complete astonishment.

"Of course," the woman whispered as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

"But you only gestured toward everything and then wrote those weird things in the dirt." Valhallarama pointed toward the symbols in the sand for evidence.

"True." The woman sighed, "but everyone knows I can speak. I can speak several languages actually, but my voice is already beginning to fade rapidly as my age grows steadily higher. So I have been writing all that I understand in runes rather than speaking. A word written is just as powerful, if not more-so, than a word spoken."

Valhallarama, finally having someone who she could understand, began to fire off every question that had been on her mind since she woke up. "Why doesn't everyone else speak like you do? They all sound like their babbling. And where is here? And why did you make the SSjeef Haldoor leave? And-"

"Enough," The old woman stated as she held her hand to cover the questioning mouth. "I will answer all your questions but you must give me the chance to speak." Valhallarama silenced at these words and the old woman removed her hand from her mouth before speaking once more. "This is an island called Berk; it is located deep in the Viking territories where the main language is Norse. The man that brought you to me is "Chief Haldor," He is the current leader of the Hooligan tribe. I made him leave because I need to tell you something that he cannot hear. But first." The woman placed a hand inside a hidden pocket of the fur vest she wore and pulled out a small thin metal rod which was about the same size as her hand. The woman then took hold of Valhallarama's left shackle and stuck the metal rod inside. She wiggled it around for a few moments before a small click emanated from the shackle and it fell to the floor with a clank. She repeated the process to its twin until it too let go. The old woman then picked up the shackles and dragged them away.

"Thank you." Valhallarama said as she massaged at the raw skin of her wrists. The old woman waddled back to her, holding bandages and alcohol, which she promptly poured on the wounds. Valhallarama gasped from the sudden pain but she was prevented from pulling away from it by the old woman's firm grip.

"It hurts now, but it will not be infected later." the woman explained before quickly bandaging the wounds. After bandaging Valhallarama's hands she quickly waddled over to the boiling pot and spooned out some of its contents into a small bowl. When she came back she handed the bowl over saying "The soup will cool in a few moments, until then be careful."

Valhallarama gratefully took the steaming bowl of soup and immediately began blowing on it to get it to cool down faster. "Now get comfortable and listen carefully," the woman said. "Because this will take a while to explain and I will not repeat myself. No questions either; everything will be explained in time."

Valhallarama quickly sat cross-legged on the floor and looked at the woman with complete concentration as she gently sipped at the soup. "I must first begin explaining by asking you what you already know. First, do you have any idea what that pendant was?"

"It was a gift from my mother." Valhallarama answered sadly.

"Yes," The old woman continued "but do you know what it was?"

Valhallarama thought for a few moments over the last things she heard her mother tell her before slowly stating "She said it was a gift from my ancestor to his beloved."

The woman nodded her head at this "Good, your mother was right. But allow me to fill in some of the blanks. A very long time ago, about two hundred years give or take, there was a young man, a Viking, who had traveled the world seeking an answer to peace with his father. Now, this man was the third son to the last king of the Wilderwest, but he was also a runt." Valhallarama's eyes widened at this but the woman continued. "Regardless, his father was willing to make him the true heir to the throne, but the man wanted to finalize this by first creating a great peace. As he traveled, searching for followers of this peace, he met a young Roman woman who he ended up falling deeply in love with. Their love remained a secret for several years before the man finally found a solution to make peace with his father and the Vikings' greatest enemies. When he was ready to leave he made that pendant for his beloved, who at the time was heavy with child, as a promise to her that he would come back to help raise it... but he never did. You see he was going to show his father a way of life that would make everything easier for everyone, but before he could show his father the miracle he discovered however, he was betrayed by his own jealous brother. This betrayal cost the brother his banishment and your ancestor his death. The devastation of losing two sons forced the king into a great depression and he ended up causing the archipelago to once again be split apart in war. The remaining son of the king was given Chiefdom over the last of the land that the great king still possessed. The Roman woman that was left behind was heartbroken when her love did not return, but she could not bear to rid herself of the gift she received from the man she once loved, so she had the pendant passed down the generations in the hopes that one day the pendant would find its way back to her beloved."

"But-" Valhallarama began, but she was silenced by the woman's raised hand.

After a few moments of silence the woman continued, "It finally did, and Hiccup Horrendous Haddock II has returned to take his rightful place as Chief." At this the woman paused and looked knowingly at Valhallarama before a smirk formed across her face as she added "Well, almost." A look of confusion filtered across Valhallarama's face but she held her tongue from the question that wished to burst forth by instead drinking down the rest of her soup. The old woman smiled at this as she said, "I see you learn quickly; that is good. For that I will explain only a little further, then the rest you must figure out in time." The old woman took in a deep breath before she continued. "The current Chief of the Hooligan tribe, Chief Haldor and his son Stoick are the last surviving members of the succeeding son's bloodline. However, they are only holding the true Chief's place until he can return anew. You will be very important in his arrival."

Valhallarama was still very confused by this statement. Would she be the one who would find this man? And if she was, where was he? And what did she have to do with bringing him back to the Hooligan tribe? She quickly silenced her thoughts however, as the old woman began once again. "As you watched me before, I have told Chief Haldor that you would be absolutely necessary for the next Chief to come to fruition in the Hooligan tribe, though I did not tell him how. Never-the-less he knows that you are not to be killed or removed from the island. However, I cannot say the same for the rest of the tribe."

Valhallarama couldn't help the nervousness that crawled through her at those words. The woman sighed and stood before going over to a small wooden chest with the Berk crest on the front before pulling out a tan, long sleeved tunic, a pair of thin light-brown fur boots, red and brown leggings and a small fur waist wrap. She then placed the clothes down in front of Valhallarama before stating, "Dress." Valhallarama quickly did as she was told. She first carefully removed the soaked dress before folding it and placing it on the ground. As she picked up the different pieces of clothing the older woman helped lead her through the proper location that everything was supposed to go until she had all items of clothing effectively placed on her body. When she bent down to lift up her dress from the ground she froze at not seeing it were she had placed it, she looked around the entire floor to see if she had misplaced it when the old woman tugged on her tunics sleeve. Valhallarama twisted around and saw the clothing now sitting in the small wooden chest before it was closed and then placed in her arms.

"You will need these for later times, but for now keep them close." As the wooden box was placed in Valhallarama's hands the woman held on to it yielding it's betrothal until Valhallarama looked up to face the woman's now serious face "As long as you remain on this island your Roman blood must remain a secret. Even your true name must be unknown to the mouths of others. Speak it once now."

At first Valhallarama's mouth refused to move but as she looked into the unrelenting stare of the woman it slipped out almost effortlessly, like the woman herself was drawing it from her very soul. "Valhallarama Vipsania Vorenius"

The moment it left her lips she almost felt the words remove themselves from her presence as the woman stated, "Good, your new name shall be Valka. Now say it."

"I am Valka." And the moment those words left her mouth so did the last feeling of connection to her true name.

The old woman stroked her cheek one time before she said "From this moment on you will not speak a word unless it is in Norse tongue. Now go outside where you will find the Chief waiting. He will be the one who directs you to where you need to go next." And with that she removed her hand from Valka's cheek and turned away to walk out of the back of the room. Valka stood there for only a moment longer to stare at the curtain the woman had disappeared behind before she too turned and walked out from the opposite side. Leaving the last whispers of her origins inside of the room.

When she quietly shut the door behind her by pushing against it with her back, she was surprised to notice the sun slowly beginning to descend into the horizon. She hadn't realized exactly how long she had been in there. When she looked around she spied Chief Haldor standing just to the left of the door, a serious expression adorning his face. When the Chief seemed not to notice her presence she cleared her throat to exploit it. The Chief didn't move from his position but his eyes swiveled in his head to land on her. He eyed the box she held and raised a brow at the attire that she wore, but he dismissed it quickly before huffing out "komme" and strode away. Valka recognized this word from before and quickly followed the man back down the stairs.

They walked in silence maneuvering their way down the stairs as the wind blew around them. Valka had to almost jog to keep up with the Chief's great stride. Before she had been nearly half dead and didn't bother to look up at the view. This time she chose to take a good look at the island in front of her. It was magnificent. It rose from the sea like a great tower. Mountains scaled most of the inner island with sharp peaks that seemed to scrape at the lowest clouds. Hills rolled off of the mountains in great waves and stretched out to the edges of the island where a mottling of cliffs and beaches bordered the island. Cracks and crevices seemed to be scattered across the island like scars. Finally a forest of the largest trees she had ever seen blanketed nearly the entire central island. It was so different from the flat plains she was used to.

The village itself sat on an out cropping of the island that was separated from the mainland by a huge crevasse that disappeared into the sea below. A single bridge acting as a link between the two. The large wooden houses seemed to cling to any flat portion of the secondary island they could find. Some sitting so close to the edges of drop-offs that wooden walkways jutted out from in front of the house doorways to make entry possible. Thick grass covered the ground where dirt roads didn't preside, and sheep seemed to wander about as they pleased feeding off the large expanse of foliage. Like her town the village of Berk seemed to have a single main road that started near the top of the secondary island as a big loop and then ran down the steep slopes, swerving around the miscellaneous houses, before it ended at a large cliff face. A large switchback wooden pathway then finished the journey down into the docks.

She hadn't realized she'd stopped moving until Chief Haldor cleared his throat loudly. She almost jumped out of her skin from the sudden noise and began to nearly sprint her way down the staircase to his location. In her musings the Chief had managed to go half way down the staircase before he had noticed she wasn't following him. Valka managed to run all the way down to his location without falling over the side. There were a few stumbles but they were luckily steered toward the cliff face of the rock spire rather than the endless drop into the ocean.

The Chief only glowered at her when she had finally caught up to him but he turned around and continued leading her down the staircase and onto the dirt pathway that led toward the village. They walked up the slopes of the roads, passing by several buildings. Many of them adorned with the heads of dragons or wooden carvings of Vikings holding a menagerie of weapons and all bearing faces of war. The Chief led her a little ways longer through the throng of buildings until he approached a large wooden and stone structure. Weapons ranging from long swords, to maces, to shields, hung from the outside walls and were piled inside of a massive cart just outside the doorway. As they approached, the sound of a burning furnace met her ears and the air around them already picked up a few degrees. Valka deduced that this must be the smithy.

The window to the right of the thick wooden door had its shudders spread wide open allowing a large amount of light and heat from inside to escape into the cooling air. The Chief opened the door and a gust of hot air burst out from behind it as he stepped inside, Valka quickly following. Once inside Valka took a look around the large room. To the far right of the room sat a large grinding wheel with several weapons propped against the wall next to it for later work. To the left of that a large pounding platform sat on the floor like a large tree stump jutting from the ground. Looking further to the left she found the blazing coal furnace, its bellows sitting in extended wait to burst another round of air to feed the already scorching flames. A single large wooden table occupied the center of the room where several different bent, broken and misshapen weapons laid in waiting to be fixed. A small clanking sound came from above her head and she quickly looked up to find a menagerie of tools hanging from the ceiling by hooks, slowly drifting back and forth in their placements.

The clanking sound had come from the Chief's massive helmet accidentally making contact with one of the tools. It swung in its place on the hook and almost looked as if it might fall off, but it was caught by a gloved hand which was attached to a barrel-chested man with a sharp black beard and long hair that was tied back in a low ponytail. He was a good foot shorter than the Chief and only about 2/3 his girth but he still towered over Valka easily. The blacksmith's hazel eyes were focused on the Chief in a moment of annoyance before they seemed to recognized the face of his leader and widened into a look of surprise

"Chief Haldor!" The man exclaimed. He finished steadying the tool and took a quick step back, "var jeg ikke forventer å 'come' her så sent."

"Jeg tok du lærling 'Garth', må du holde et øye 'her' mens hun er i landsbyen."

The man seemed taken aback by the statement for a moment. Then he looked down at Valka and sized her up, noting what little size she had. His eyes filled with a distasteful expression as if she were a piece of trash that got swept in his door, and his face showed nothing but disdain. Valka shrank back a step trying to decrease her size as much as possible under his gaze when he said in a low growl, "Dette er utstøtt?" She didn't know what that meant but it most certainly didn't sound like a compliment.

"Ja, Jeg trenger å hjelpe meg å holde et øye på henne." Not two seconds after the Chief stated this, the conversation transformed into a battle of shouts and a scramble of babbling words that Valka couldn't make out. She shrank up against the wall in preparation for the two giants to start fighting but the argument only ended in a long glare between the two men before the blacksmith named Garth threw up his hands and yelled, "Fin! Men jeg ikke tar vare på henne. Hun ønsker å leve hun gjør det selv."

And with that the blacksmith twisted around and lifted up one of the hammers that were strewn on the table before going over to the furnace and yanking out a red-hot sword. Chief Haldor sighed and said "Takk Garth" The blacksmith did nothing more than grunt as he began to pound on the hot metal. The Chief stood there for only a moment longer before he turned around and opened the door to the night air. Valka turned to follow him but he put up a hand to halt her. "Bo." was the only word he spoke before backing out the door once more. When Valka took another step he halted her again emphasizing "_Bo_." Valka finally took to the meaning of the word and stayed in the hot smithy as the Chief walked back out the door and closed it behind himself.

Valka stood there for a few moments trying to even her breathing after being left in the smithy with a man who obviously saw her as a nuisance.

"Hey, come here." Garth stated. Valka was overjoyed he used a set of words she could understand and quickly rushed to his side. She looked up at his grim face in apprehension before he began to walk over to the grinding stone, waving his hand for her to follow. He picked up one of the dull swords that were propped up on the wall and held it in front of her.

"Sverd" he said.

"Sverd." She repeated pointing to the sword for emphasis.

He merely grunted before turning around and sitting on the stool next to the grinding stone before pressing down on the small pedal underneath. When the wheel began turning he placed the sword down on the wheel. Sparks flew from the stone and a harsh grinding sound emanated from the contact between the two materials making Valka wince but she managed to hear Garth say, "skjerpe." before he removed the sword from the stone and looked at her.

"Skjerpe." Valka quickly repeated before putting the two words together and repeating them "Skjerpe sverd. Skjerpe sverd. 'Sharpen sword'." The man did nothing more than grunt again before handing the sword over to Valka, who balked under its weight for a moment, and then walking back over to the pounding platform to resume his normal work. Valka slowly propped herself up on the stool and repeated the process that Garth had displayed. She missed a few times but managed to only drop the sword on the first try from the startle of the unexpected vibration. Garth only looked up to observe her for a moment before continuing pounding on the sword and placing it in the cold water of a large barrel, the water hissing from the contact.

On the fifth try she managed to hold the weapon in a good position to sharpen it properly. As she slowly made her way through the stack of swords on the wall she began to hope maybe the life she would be living now on Berk might not be so bad.

If only she knew.

***I am basing this part of off the statement in Riders of berk episode 3 "Animal House" how dragons use their natural instincts to protect people. In this case a Scauldron is pushing Valhallarama(now newly dubbed Valka) across the water to the nearest strip of land.**

**^If you look up Stoick's father, I am basing him off of the shield picture they have of him in riders of berk "Portrait of Hiccup as a Buff Man."**

**The language I'm using for the Vikings is Norwegian. (couldn't find Norse, sorry)This is what they are saying in order from first said to last.**

**"Where are you From?"**

**"Water!"**

**"What is the story of the girl, Chief?"**

**"She is an outcast from an unknown country, I want to take her to Gothi for advice before I make any final decisions.**

**Go and spread word to the village that we will be having a visitor for an, as of yet, undetermined length of time."**

**"Yes Chief Haldor."**

**"If Gothi decides you should live, at least you will learn quickly."**

**"Gothi, I wish for your counsel."**

**"come"**

**"Chief Haldor, I wasn't expecting you to come here this late."**

**"I brought you an apprentice, make sure you keep an eye on her while she's in the village."**

**"This is the Outcast?"**

**"Yes, I need you to help me keep an eye on her."**

**"Fine! But I'm not taking care of her. She wants to live she's doing it herself."**

**"Thank you, Garth."**

**"Stay." "_Stay_"_  
_**

**"Hey, come here"**

**"Sword."**

**"Sharpen."**

**If you want a better size reference for the size of the chest look at the episode of Riders of Berk where they go to breakneck bog. The chest that held the gift of hiccup's mother is the same size.**

**Just so people know Valka, in this story, was born on a leap year so since she is 8 years old now this current year is a leap year.**


	4. The Chase, and the First Friend

**I own nothing.**

The Chase and the First Friend

(4 years later)

Valka slowly scaled the hill that led to the village's well. The empty buckets held in her shaky grip, swinging to the sway in her walk and bumping harshly into the meager flesh on her legs. The clothes she wore barely clung to the continuously shrinking flesh underneath. Daylight shined down on dim green eyes that held dark bags underneath from an extensive amount of time without a full night's sleep. Her thick brown hair was tied into two matted braids that clung to the stretched skin that held on to a shrunken face. The skin decorated in a mottling of bruises, both young and old, which extended down underneath.

As she traveled, she silently maneuvered her way around people going about their daily lives, tuning out the small whispers that always crept into her ears even long after being able to understand what the hushed babbling meant. She lost her drive to care a long time ago anyway, so long as it was only whispers she could easily just continue on with her day as if nothing happened.

She preferred it that way anyway.

The village was nothing more than a torture chamber to her and the island was the cell she couldn't escape. Chief Haldor was like her warden, constantly checking her whereabouts each day that whole first year, and Garth was nothing more than the man who held the figurative chain to keep her in line. Each time she took a step in the wrong direction, even through accident, it would be met with cruel retribution. The adults that lived there moved around her as if she was a ghost, only acknowledging her presence for a few moments to say the off comment to their fellows and look at her in distaste before moving about their lives. This was simple avoid and evade measures to ensure a peaceful day. It was a similar concept during the night a well, but instead of avoiding people, she avoided dragons during the Raids.

Raids were a once every other night occurrence, and she would spend it inside of the forge working double time with Garth yelling out orders in rapid succession. She would be in constant turmoil, trying not to anger Garth more than he already was and trying to ignore the constant sounds of loud roars and yells of the battle raging outside. It was during these jarring and frightening ordeals that she strangely learned the most words from Garth, and the people that repeated their wishes in great yells just outside the service windows.

She remembered being so gullible those first few days of true speech when the incomprehensible babbling had slowly transformed into words of meaning. She was so happy to learn how to speak to those around her that she had gone up to so many people trying to start conversations with them, but they either shrank away from her or yelled at her to leave. Some of them even chucked objects at her.

The adolescents were far more brutal. They teased her for her lack of speech comprehension, tormented her daily for her tiny stature, and segregated her for her outcast status. They found joy in relieving her of any food substance she managed to get her hands on and she wasn't fast enough to get to a safe location, and they seemed to take turns throughout the day to chase her through the streets. She dared not provoke them or even be seen stepping within ten feet of them. For each time she was caught by one of them in broad daylight she had to run and climb for her own self preservation. It was nothing more than a huge game of cat and mouse that happened at least once every day; twice, if the boys were just angry that day and wanted to let off steam. They seemed to have found enjoyment in using her as a personal punching bag.

Out of all others, they were her tormentors.

One of the many times she had been chased she had discovered that while she had the innate ability to climb the other children did not. This worked very well when it came to the trees in the forest. It was so peaceful there, and she would even find a fruit or two on an odd branch that she would always save for her most food-deprived times. She had even managed to build a small tree house in one of the older trees where she now slept during the nights and kept her things.

She could only stay for so long however, for the first time she refused to leave the safety of her tree the Chief himself had wandered into the forest and would have ripped the tree out from its very roots had she not come down. She could still remember the iron grip on her arm as he had dragged her back to the village. Even though he had stopped checking on her whereabouts years ago, she still feared not being seen by him at least once every few days to show him he needn't do that again. It is only for this reason she continued to come back to the village.

She thought about leaving several times but found she couldn't even get near the ships without the adults yelling at her. She had even gone so far as to ask Garth if he could explain.

"Why, if no one wants me here, will they not allow me to leave?" She had asked as she flipped the blade that was being pounded on by the Blacksmith.

He had only answered "You are considered a prisoner here until you have the right as an adult to leave this place. Try it again when your eighteen, you'll get better results." And with that said he had shoved her away toward the cooling barrel, and she knew that the extent of his patience for the day had been used.

Now, at the age of twelve, with food denied from her and sleep almost nonexistent in her constant work or flight life, she barely hoped she could survive to eighteen years old. And then there was her Roman secret. As she dipped the buckets into the water she couldn't help but shiver at the thought of what the village would do to her if they figured that out. The village might demand for her immediate execution in possibly the most horrifying ways imaginable. A vision of the Chief holding her up to be swallowed whole by a dragon's huge maw filled her thoughts at that.

She shook her head from the frightening image of the gargantuan Chief and the beastly creature before shakily picking up the now-filled buckets and sluggishly making her way back down the hill toward the smithy. Garth wouldn't be happy with how much time it had already taken her to get the buckets of water, but he was currently dining at the great hall for his lunch. If she managed to get back before he did, he'd be none the wiser.

At this thought she quickened her pace down the hill. She might even arrive in time to take a quick break for some much needed sleep. She was so wrapped up in her thought process to get back to the forge she hadn't paid attention to the amount of steps she was going when she took a step and had it fall further down than what she had expected when she hit the beginning of a staircase.

She quickly let go of the buckets, allowing them to continue their journey forward, and jutted her hands out in a practiced motion to catch herself before she face-planted into the staircase just underneath. When her hands clenched down on the wooden plank below her, the downward motion combined with the forward momentum forced her legs to lift up behind her and begin to fall forward without her. In response she pushed off of the staircase. Hoping to at least fall on the flat surface of the ground rather than the sharp edges of the wood. Miraculously however, she managed to shakily land on both her feet at the bottom of the staircase unharmed.

She stood there in momentary shock and surprise at what she accomplished before she was jarred back into reality by an enraged yell. She focused on four boys in front of her. Three of them dry, but the one in the middle, obviously the leader, was soaked to the bone in water with one of the wooden buckets perched atop his head like a hat. The water was practically steaming off of his bright red face from the amount of anger coursing through him.

They both stared at each other for a moment and she managed to have enough time to recognize this boy for a second and slowly recalled his name being similar to an insult. Spot loit? No, no... Spitelout! Yep, that was it! The village's second in line to the Chief's position and the village showoff. He would openly gloat about how many times he won the thawfest games and he constantly paraded his medals around to show them off. He was also the highest on her bully list, due to him seeking her out as the perfect practice dummy for his art of ridicule. Of course, this time wouldn't be ending in just ridicule.

"GET THAT RUNT!"

And with that said she sprinted off like a flash, the group of boys hot on her heels. She sprinted up the steps two at a time and pushed her feet hard against the dirt road to push her faster as adrenalin rushed through her body to aid her escape. She sprinted past houses and through alleyways making as many sharp turns as she could to throw them off. She ran under objects and dogged around people through the streets using her small form to her advantage, but they still pursued her like hounds on a rabbit.

After so many of these chases her legs were running in second nature to her now, but even with all this she could still feel the meaty finger tips grasping at the air just behind her. She couldn't speed up any faster, she didn't have the energy, and she needed to get to a safe place quick or she would begin to slow. She couldn't just start climbing though; she needed time to get up before they grabbed at a low hanging limb. She needed energy, and she was losing it fast.

As she sprinted through the people-filled streets, a large wheelbarrow being rolled along by a large bald man traveled in her fleeing direction. She sprinted harder toward him and quickly jumped inside the wheelbarrow. The man stopped in surprise at the sudden action, but she didn't pause for more than a moment before she ran up the wheelbarrow's handle, across his extended arm and then leapt off of his shoulder toward the nearest building.

She spread her arms and hands out wide, her very fingertips stretching out to catch even a single piece of wood that jutted from the house. Her chest hit hard against the very edge of the roof and she felt a long bruise come forth from the impact. Her arms splayed out over the steep roof and her fingernails scraped against the wood to keep her grip as she kicked at the wood beneath her to find some purchase so she could push herself up. Just as she managed to find a decent supporting edge in the wood, a meaty hand grabbed hold of her right leg and ripped her from the safety of the roof, allowing her to fall down to the earth.

She opened her eyes and saw the four grinning boys before Spitelout picked her up by her collar and lifted her to his eye level. Her toes barely touched the ground beneath her as she shut her eyes and braced herself for impact. The punch hit her face like a solid rock making her head swirl before she was roughly shoved away. She stumbled back for a few passes before she was shoved again from behind pushing her back forward into a fist that rammed into her stomach. She dropped to the ground and gagged but nothing more than air removed itself from her empty stomach before she fell over into the dirt and curled up into a ball. Laughing, kicking, jabbing, punching, spitting. It all came at once, and she couldn't do anything but hope they finished or got tired soon. She covered her ears in an effort to at least muffle the laughter around her.

"HEY!"

The barrage against her body stopped at the new voice's intrusion. Spitelout answered the call in a sneering voice but her ears were ringing and her head was still spinning so much she could only hear the muffled sounds of an angry female voice. Both Spitelout and the girl seemed to argue for only a few moments before a loud yelp broke through her barrier over her ears. The vibrations from the ground indicated the three boys from around her left in a hurry. She allowed herself to relax just enough to remove her hands from her ears.

A loud thunk coming from in front of her face jarred her eyes open. She came face–to-face with her reflection that rested on a well-polished, but extremely dull double-bladed ax head. Her sight slowly traveled up the cracked wood of the ax handle, noting the leather grip's tattered and worn appearance as a symbol of near constant use. Perched at the peak of the handle was the hand of a girl.

The hand's thin fingers were crowned with calloused knuckles, and tiny scratch marks decorated the skin all the way to its wrist. Dark brown training tape was wrapped tightly around the edge of the wrist, extending across the forearm and ending at a weathered and beat elbow. A lean muscled upper arm extended like a bridge to a shirt that looked like it was put together with all the different colors of brown yarn available. The first hand's twin rested on a cocked hip which was adorned with a simple leather stripped skirt which extended down to the girl's knees. A pair of ripped leggings ran down the girl's calves and disappeared into a pair of muddy brown fur boots.

"Get up." the girl ordered suddenly, Valka's eyes immediately focused on the face of the girl which was glaring down at her with hazel eyes. Blond tresses that strayed from the low-hanging bun fell in the girl's face. Thin lips formed a light frown which pulled at high cheekbones. A single plain leather band wrapped around the crown of the girl's head, resting just above her golden eyebrows. The girl looked no older than Valka.

When she opened her mouth to repeat herself Valka responded to her by asking, "What's the point of rising when you'll just be pushed back down?"

The frustration from the girls face vanished and her eyebrows rose at the question. Once the initial surprise from the question wore off the girl stated, "The point in rising is to turn around and punch the son of a half troll that pushed you down in the face." As if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yes, because I could do that." Valka responded, sarcasm dripping from each word.

"Get up, or I'm cutting your head off." the girl growled.

Valka tensed for a moment before she shifted her sight back to the ax head and sighed "It's too dull."

"...What?"

"Your ax is too dull."

"What do you mean it's too dull?" the girl asked angrily.

"Just that." Valka stated simply. "No matter how good an ax maiden you may be you cannot cut off a person's head if you neglect your ax's condition."

No sooner had the words left her mouth, than Valka was grasped hard around her upper arm and yanked to her feet as the girl yelled out "YOU-". She didn't hear what the girl was going to call her though. The moment the girl lifted Valka off her feet, the iron grip was ripped away as if Valka had caught fire and the girl's sentence was silenced with wide eyed shock.

Valka struggled for a moment to stay on her feet after the quick jar to her body and ground her teeth together so she wouldn't cry out from the pain created in her shoulder by the vicious yank. Once she managed to still herself, Valka looked at the girl whose hazel eyes, now level with her green ones, were wide and staring at Valka's form. "Forget getting up. How do you stand? Hell! When was the last time you ate?" The girl asked in horrid astonishment as she took in the bone-thin girl in front of her. To the girl, Valka's legs were vibrating so much under the strain of holding up her body weight that they looked like they might collapse at any moment.

"Sheer force of will," Valka responded simply, "And I can't remember; it varies every week." The girl's eyes widened further at this but managed to pull her eyes away from the emaciated body and look at Valka's face.

She stared at her for several moments, her face a mix between anger and deep thought as her fingers twisted around the ax handle. "I can fix it for you if you want." Valka stated simply.

The girl's grip tightened around the wood and her face flew into an expression of shock before she looked away from Valka "I can't have you do that."

"Why not?"

The girl growled for a moment in frustration before turning back to Valka an saying "Because, nobody just gives things away around here like that."

"I'm not giving anything away." Valka said simply "I'm thanking you."

"For what?" the girl asked, confused.

"For not just standing by and watching."

Any presence of harsh emotion that presided on the girl's face practically melted at those words. "I wasn't," she started slowly before sighing and wiping the stray tresses from her face. "It just sickens me when people have to gang up on someone half their own size to boost their ego. It's dishonorable, it's cowardly, and they don't deserve to call themselves Vikings." The girl took in a deep breath as if preparing to admit something horrible before finishing, "I didn't do it for you."

"All the better reason to thank you."

The girl's mouth dropped in astonishment for just a moment before it was quickly shut. She looked down at her ax for a moment as if to study it before looking back up at Valka and asking "You're that girl who works with Garth in the forge aren't you?" Valka just nodded her head. "Are you sure you know how to sharpen an ax?"

"Do you know how to wield one?" Valka asked in return, and when the girl was about to open her mouth to retort Valka finished saying, "Both these questions are completely redundant and end in the same answer."

The girl looked at her for a moment before swinging her ax onto her shoulder and gesturing down the street as she said "Well, lead the way."

Valka turned and began to walk down the street back toward the smithy with the girl following close behind her. After only a short distance the girl looked at Valka and asked, "So, what'd you do that pissed off Spitelout so much?"

"I accidentally spilled water on him." Valka answered.

"He should have thanked you." The girl laughed "He's needed a bath all month." Valka would have laughed along with her had she not remembered what water exactly she had doused him with. Valka groaned and smacked her head for forgetting her task. "What's the matter with you?" The girl asked.

"The buckets," Valka groaned "I was supposed to get them filled with water and bring them back but I dumped them on Spitelout's head, and now Garth's probably left the great hall already and is really angry I haven't gotten it done yet."

"I can do it."

Valka's head shot out of her hands at this and looked at the girl in utter shock "I'm sorry. I don't think I heard you right; could you repeat that?"

The girl huffed and swung her ax around to bounce it against her foot. "I said I can do it. You're giving me a free ax sharpening, the least I can do is get you the water you need to do your job. Also, Garth is still up at the great hall having a drinking contest with Barsquall. I was coming from there when I found you." At this she flipped the ax back up on to her shoulder and asked "So, where are the buckets?"

"There at the bottom of the wooden staircase that leads to the working circle of the village."

The girl thought for a moment before saying "That's almost right next to the smithy isn't it?"

Valka just hung her head at this as she thought how close to her destination she'd been. She felt like she might sob as a sighing "Yes" left her mouth.

"Okay," the girl responded as she flipped her ax off of her shoulder and held it out in front of her. "Hold this for a moment." Valka held out her hands and the ax was dropped into her arms, which promptly dropped to the ground.

Valka strained groaned and heaved with all her might to lift the ax from the ground, she managed to lift it up just long enough to fall backwards onto the ground with it in her arms. Valka groaned and managed to sit up with it in her lap. She sighed for a moment before looking at the now worried face of the girl and said "I assure you I will not move it from this spot."

The girl shifted back and forth for a moment as if rethinking her previous action before stating "I'm going to be right back." And with that she turned around and sprinted off to get the buckets. True to her word, only a few minutes later did Valka see the girl sprint past her with the buckets in her hands and travel up to the well where she filled them and carried them back down the hill to Valka's position. The girl set the buckets down in front of her and then lifted the ax from Valka's lap as she stated "I assume you can carry the buckets?" Valka nodded her head as she shakily got to her feet and reached for the buckets. She vibrated for just a moment as she lifted them but managed to still herself when she was standing straight. Valka took a deep breath and continued on her way to the smithy with the girl following after.

It was all so strange; Valka had never met someone who was this willing to be nice to her. As she thought further into it she knew that the girl had only stopped the fight due to her own personal morals, and the reason she got the buckets was to pay back the favor of having her ax sharpened. But to Valka it almost didn't matter. She supposed she could at least enjoy this fleeting moment of kindness for as long as it lasted.

The two walked together in silence until they reached the smithy where Valka put down the buckets to open the door but found the door already propped open by the girl's foot. Valka quickly walked inside with the buckets and went over to the cooling barrel where she promptly poured the water in to fill it back to the top. Once finished she walked over to the grinding stone and sat down on the stool before looking over at the girl and saying "I can take the ax now." The girl looked at her warily but Valka simply held her arms out and said "As long as I'm sitting with it I'm not going to drop it." The girl walked over to her and carefully laid the ax in Valka's arms. Once again the weight of the ax forced Valka's arms down, but having more experience with its weight she managed not to let it fall to the ground and instead maneuvered it so it lay down in her lap.

She studied the edges of the ax and how they curved in a half moon shape to get a bearing on how she would need to angle the ax so it could receive the optimum sharpening. It was duller than she had originally thought. It would take a while before she had it completed "You might want to get comfortable; it could take a while," she stated to the girl. Upon hearing this the girl walked over to the spare waiting chair and sat down with her head propped up on her hand. Valka took this as a signal to begin so she placed the ax head on the grinder and started sharpening. She had to constantly curve the blade so she didn't create a split in the surface and every now and again she had to stop and flip it over to prevent it from sharpening lopsided. When she had removed the ax head for the final time, about thirty minutes later, she looked around the room to see the girl no longer in the chair but outside of the smithy instead leaning against the wall close to the window.

Valka opened her mouth to get her attention but then stopped herself as she looked back down at the ax in her hands. After a few moments she made her decision, she slowly raised herself up and managed to carry the ax over to a clamp that was attached to the center table. She was going to have to do this fast for it to work.

Once the ax was in its place she tightened the clamp around the head. She then rushed over to the hanging tools and pulled down a pair of tongs and pliers from the hooks. She placed the tongs on the table next to the clamp and grabbed hold of the handle of the ax with the pliers. She twisted out the handle by jumping up and using what body weight she had to yank on it until it was loose enough to twist out by hand. After doing so she peeled off the tattered pieces of leather that still clung to the wood and then scraped at the outside skin of the wood to smooth its surface. Once finished she quickly swept up the debris and tossed them into the fire. Using the tongs, she picked up the wooden handle and brought it over to a small troth filled with linseed oil before submerging it inside. When she brought it back to the surface she quickly grabbed a cloth to wipe the excess oil back into the troth. She brought the wooden handle back over to the table and wiped at the surface until the oil was properly absorbed into the wood before putting it down. She then quickly ran over to the spare leathers and cut off several long strips, with which she ran over to the table and wrapped them around the handle as its new grips, recalling the places the girl held the ax. When she finished she placed the handle back into the ax head and tightened it in to prevent slipping. As a final measure, she checked the balance of the ax to ensure good maneuverability.

When she was finished she carefully carried it outside. When the girl heard the door open her head swiveled to look at Valka and then down at the ax in her hands. "What did you do with it?" The girl asked astonished as she picked up the ax and began to swing it around experimentally "It almost looks brand new."

Valka took in a deep breath before letting it out as she sat down on one of the small barrels that lined the outside of the smithy "I did say I could fix it for you."

The girl looked hard at the ax before an uncomfortable sadness seemed to ghost its way across her features and she stated solemnly "I can't pay for this." She then turned and held the ax out to Valka as she said "You need to take it back until I can repay you."

"You don't have to. I'm just thanking you." Valka stated, "Besides it's a gift, I can't take it back." And as if to concur her own statement Valka lightly pushed the ax back toward the girl before leaning back and relaxing against the smithy. The girl looked down at the ax and said something else but Valka didn't catch it. Through the day's events and her efforts with fixing the ax, Valka felt the exhaustion finally getting the better of her, and knowing that Garth would be spending nearly all day at the great hall with his drinking game meant that she had the privilege to allow her eyes to shut for just a few moments.

Suddenly Valka was shook awake by a firm grip on her arm, opening her eyes to the girl who was looking at her in absolute horror and now yelling "WAKE UP!" into her face.

"What, what happened?" Valka woke startled.

The girl sighed in relief as she said "Odin's beard, don't do that, I thought you'd gone and went to Valhalla for a moment."

"Why would you think that? I was just sleeping." Valka stated now confused and slightly annoyed.

"You already look like you're going to fall over dead when your eyes are open."

Valka looked at the girl for a moment before saying "Thank you for summing that up." she then flopped her head back on the wall.

"Why don't you eat anything?" The girl asked "The docks are a perfect place to fish and the great hall has loads of food during dinner time."

"You can ask Spitelout who keeps breaking my fishing rods for fun. As for the great hall, I probably lasted about 5 1/2 seconds in there before I was chased out." Valka explained as she rubbed at her eyes.

"Why?"

Valka dropped her hands from her face and sighed at how obvious the situation was, but figured if the girl was willing to listen she might as well give her an answer "I'm a runt, and an outcast because of it. It's been that way for four years. I'm not big enough to fight them off so they steal my food easily, making me smaller. I can't sleep because every waking moment I'm not working I'm either being chased or beat to a pulp, making me even more exhausted. I've honestly stopped hoping that the beatings will go away. I just want to have the chance to eat something, anything, three times a day for breakfast, lunch and dinner. That's all I think I can ask for."

The girl stared at her for several moments before she turned around to leave. Valka sighed and shut her eyes believing that this would be the first and last time she would ever interact with her when she heard the girl call out "Gilda." Valka's eyes opened wide to see the girl looking back at her and saying "My name is Gilda."

Valka stared after the girl for a few seconds before she responded back "Valka." The girl, now known as Gilda, nodded her head at the name before turning around and walking back up the hill and out of sight.

The next morning, Valka quietly slipped into work. She was happy to say that no one had tried to jump her this morning. She had almost thought she would have though when she had walked in front of Spitelout. She noticed he now sported a large black eye and she wondered if Gilda had given that to him when she had broke up the fight. She also worried that that would be a reason for him to become even angrier with her, but when he looked at her, he only cringed slightly before quickly picking up his pace and walking off. Valka couldn't help but do a double take to make sure she saw that correctly.

Valka began to maneuver her way over to the grinding stone when Garth yelled at her "OI! Valka!" Valka winced at the sound of his voice. She knew this day was starting off too good. "There's a smelly package on my table for you. Get it off!" Valka twisted around to see if what he'd said was true. Lo and behold there was a package of brown paper with her name written on the outside wrapping. But she never received anything before, why would she be getting something now? "You just gonna stand there and stare at it?" Garth growled at her. Valka quickly jumped from her position and snatched the parcel off the table before Garth's patience wore any thinner.

When she had the package safely on her side of the forge she sat down on the stool for the grinding stone and set the package in her lap. She opened it up and found three raw fish, each with a small note attached to them by a string that wrapped around their gills. Out of curiosity, Valka picked up the dangling note that was attached to the far left fish and read the word that had been written there. Breakfast.

She reread the word twice before she looked at the other two and picked up the middle fish's note. Lunch. A small smile adorned her face as she picked up the last note and it read just as she had predicted. Dinner.

The first tear she had shed since she was nine ran down her face as she smiled upward and very quietly whispered, "Thank you Gilda."

**I didn't know if I wanted to give you the last chapter and this chapter together or separate, so I did both. They are separate chapters but I imputed them at the same time.**

**Sorry no Stoick yet. He's coming really soon. I swear!**

**Happy President's day**

**This chapter is pretty short I know, they will vary in length as I continue.**


End file.
